Written in the Stars
by Purple Mouse and Ryuen
Summary: What if Miaka were from The Universe of the Four Gods, and the Seishi lived in our world? The beginnings of a really long, non-reincarnation-fic AU-type deal, from the POV of Nuriko & Hotohori. ^_~ Chapter 2, Part I. ^^;;
1. Chapter One, Part I

Disclaimer: We do not own anything. We are hermits who live in a cave in Idaho.

Notes: This is not a reincarnation fic!! **gasp!!** But seriously, it's not. It's a What If Fic. **nodnod** What if….Miaka were from the Universe of the Four Gods, and all the others lived in our world? ^_~ Dun dun dunnnnnn!!!!

Special Note: This fic is posted on March 10 in honor of Nuriko's BIRTHDAYYYYYY!!!! **brings forth cake, presents, hats, confetti, and Hotohori** Anyhooooo…we hope you guys enjoy this ^_^

Written In the Stars

by Purple Mouse and Ryuen

Chapter One

Part I

~*~Saihitei~*~

It came to me without warning, without any psychological trigger at all…and I knew it was real.

For some reason, I knew…which is strange, really, because on the rare occasions during which I _do _dream, I have no problems at all separating fantasy from reality. The fact that this one never left me with a doubt in my mind was proof enough for me that it was, indeed, some sort of message.

…A message…

SUZAKU NO SHICHISEISHI HOTOHORI.

That's me. It's me, somehow.

The world is black, pure, smothering black, and I am stable, yet floating. Then again, perhaps it is the world that is floating, and not me at all. The air around me is warm, and a slight breeze tickles my face, and I think with sudden wonder that I have never had a dream this vivid before. Strange. Strange, indeed…

SUZAKU NO SHICHISEISHI HOTOHORI. HEED MY WORDS AND KNOW YOUR DESTINY.

The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere, gentle, lilting and strong. Its tone is like a whisper, but it seems to shout within me. And then, a strange, red disc appears before my eyes, hovering like a bubble. The blended colors sharpen, contract, and I realize that the disc is a word. A kanji symbol. I can read kanji—some, anyway—but even if I did not have that skill, I think I would still have been able to understand what it stood for…

Sei. 

Star.

And in a split second, the light has moved INSIDE of me…has entered me somehow, and spreads its warmth through me. The left side of my throat suddenly feels very hot; there is a flash of brightness, and then…

…The others.

There are other kanji, other symbols, which do not belong to me. They move so quickly, I cannot see all of them clearly, but I recognize…Wing. Well. And with every shining word there comes a face—faces I have never seen before. A young boy with large eyes. A man, about my own age, with flaming red hair that rivals the glow surrounding me. And then, briefly, there is something familiar… someONE familiar--a young girl with long, violet-colored hair and haunted eyes…and the symbol of Willow. 

I know her. I know that girl…

GATHER THE SEVEN STARS OF SUZAKU, HOTOHORI. GATHER THEM TO YOU, SO THAT YOU MIGHT SUMMON ME, AND SAVE YOUR WORLD…

"Who are you?" I ask quietly, scanning the blackened sky.

I AM THE GOD SUZAKU-SEIKUN, OF WHOM YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED SERVANT. SPEED QUICKLY ON YOUR WAY, HOTOHORI. TIME DRAWS CLOSE, AND THERE IS NO OTHER WAY.

GATHER THE SEVEN STARS OF SUZAKU. 

And then…

Nothing.

The dream left me softly, slid away like a silken sheet; I laid there in the darkness of my bedroom and stared.

Ryuuen.

That was her name. The face I had seen, those deep, rose-colored eyes, belonged to a girl named Ryuuen; she was my age, and I knew her from my creative writing class. But why had she been in my dream? What did that _mean_?

Gather the Seven Stars of Suzaku.

Raising a hand to my forehead, I let out a slow breath. 

It's real.

I've been trained all my life to be sensible. I had sensible hopes, sensible goals, a sensible major that would prepare me for a sensible job. There was no room in my world for fantasies. I didn't like it, but I had gotten used to it. And so there was no point at all in believing my dream to be anything more than it was. But for some reason, it would not let itself be dismissed.

It was as if the dream had a mind of its own. Every time I succeeded in driving it from my mind, hoping that, perhaps, I could still get some more sleep that night, it surged back again, like it was angry for being ignored.

With a groan, I squinted at the digital clock beside my bed, which was blinking a neon green "5:03." _You've got to be kidding me_, I moaned in my head, _I just went to sleep four hours ago, and my first class isn't until noon! _What's more, I hadn't been sleeping well at all in the past few weeks, and I couldn't explain why. However, in any event, I began to consider taking a sleeping pill; only one would do the trick, and I could set my alarm to prevent oversleeping.

Yes. That would work.

SUZAKU NO SH…

AAAAHHHH, anything to get away from that voice!

My consideration quickly and efficiently transformed itself into a decision, and I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom to get my pill. Flipping the light on, I peered groggily at my reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, and thought morosely that I looked like a member of a heavy metal band when my hair had been slept on. I hurriedly flipped the cabinet open, removed my medicine, shut it again, and was about to ingest the badly-needed drug, when… 

…there was a glare on the mirror.

And it wasn't from the bathroom light. It wasn't even from the bedroom light, which I'd flipped on unconsciously as I'd left my bed.

It was red. And it was coming from _me._

The sleeping aid dropped numbly to the floor with the tiny click of talc on tile, and my hand raised slowly to my throat. I brushed two fingers tentatively against the red mark that had suddenly appeared there, afraid that it might hurt…but it didn't. I checked my fingers for blood, but there was none. It felt normal…like normal skin, if slightly warmer. And with the cool flutter of realization spreading through my chest, I saw that it was the kanji for Star. The one from my dream.

I actually pinched myself, but I didn't wake up, because I wasn't asleep.

And I knew, once and for all, that the dream had been real.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

But what did it MEAN?? I asked myself frantically, once my powers of thought had returned. I had gone through my morning preparations as if I were a ghost, and no longer looked like a drug-addicted member of Def Leppard. However, even this knowledge was not enough to ease my worries, and did nothing to answer all the questions I had. Right now, the only thing of which I was certain was that—_somehow_—I was supposed to find six other people, the Seven Stars of Suzaku, if you will, who had the same symbol as I did. No, not the same symbol; the dream had shown me several different kanji. But people who had _a _symbol. A red, glowing word, somewhere on their bodies.

And, luckily enough, I had the first of them already.

Ryuuen had a symbol, too. That _had _to be the reason for her presence in the dream. I didn't know exactly how I was going to ask her about it, or exactly what I was going to do if she denied it. If she said that, yes, she _had _gotten a mysterious red marking overnight, that was good and well; but if she claimed she hadn't, I was in a tight spot. If she was telling the truth, then I would have to readdress the reality of the dream in question, but I would have to have _proof _that she was telling the truth, and I couldn't very well just go up to a girl and tear her clothes off. 

The only sane thing to do would be to cross that bridge when I came to it, and hope that, perhaps, I wouldn't need to cross it at all.

She was a nice girl, Ryuuen, if a bit on the antisocial side. Very pretty, if one happened to be interested in that kind of thing. We were friends, I suppose, of a sort; more like acquaintances, really, but on the friendly end of the spectrum. I'd met her in Creative Writing at the beginning of the year, a week or so into the semester, under…less than flattering circumstances…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I took a seat next to the girl with the long, purple braid, and nodded at her politely. She seemed surprised, and blushed prettily before giving me a slight smile in return; immediately, I began to have regrets about the nod, because I didn't want her to take it the wrong way. I didn't want to appear as though I were flirting, which I certainly was not. She seemed nice enough, but women were not exactly where my…interests lay, in a manner of speaking, and enough of them had fallen in love with me that it grew tiresome after a while. 

The bell rang shortly after my arrival, and the professor strode airily to the front of the room. I barely knew the man, but already, I didn't like him. He was of the sort that would have thrived at obscure coffee houses in the nineteenth century: skinny, haughty, and sharp-tongued. 

"I trust you have all completed your written assignments for today," he said, lifting his nose slightly in the air. 

Silence from the classroom. Did he want us to respond to that?

"Very well, let's see some of them." And he selected a random girl from the third row, collected her assignment, and read a part of it aloud, offering a lovely gift of biting criticism at the end.

I was horrified. I certainly hadn't expected this! Quickly glancing at the pathetic little poem I had composed, I winced at the number of faults that a man like Professor Mitchell would find in it. I loved to write, but was resigned to the fact that I really was not very good at it. I'd enrolled in this class with the hopes of improving what little talent I had, not having counted on the man in charge being such a…well, Demon from the Depths of Hell about does it, I suppose. The best thing I could do was cross my fingers and pray, to whichever God who would listen, that he would not choose my work to read out l…

"Ahhh, Mr. Seishuku…" and the paper was slowly slid from my desk. "Let's see what wondrous creative work you have produced for our listening pleasure, now, shall we?"

Not for the first time in my life, I wanted to die.

Of course, the final assessment was that the worth of my poem was below that of compost. The subject was obscure, the metaphor atrocious…and, sin of sins in the world of Modern Poetry, it RHYMED. Mitchell made some final scathing comments concerning better uses for the paper upon which the poem had been printed, and dropped it back down on my desk as if it were something positively revolting. For my part, I attempted to maintain my dignity. But it was difficult. I was, however, EXTREMELY grateful that my public ridicule was now over. The only thing was, that meant that the wrath of Professor Mitchell would be focused somewhere else…

"And how have you fared, Miss Chou? Slightly better than your neighbor, I would hope."

My eyes darted sympathetically over to Ryuuen, who looked up in surprise as the disgusting man snatched her work, then turned worried, apologetic eyes to me. We made eye contact for maybe three seconds before her gaze dropped down to her desk, and Mitchell began to read…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The phone rang, jerking me out of the recent past and into the sparse calmness of my apartment. I blinked a few times, trying to get used to living in the physical world once more, and managed to make it to the phone before the answering machine kicked in. 

"H…hello?"

"Saaaaaaaaaai!!!"

I winced. Ohhhhh, how I winced. For it was Celine, my impossibly peppy and extremely squeaky cover girlfriend. She was a sweet girl, she really was. She was smart, despite the fact that she came off as slightly ditzy at times, and had a nice sense of humor. My parents adored her, and I cared for her very much. Not that I would even have _had _a girlfriend if not for them, but that is quite beside the point. However…now was not a favorable time to hear her voice. I was tired of pretending I cared for her more than I actually did, in a different _way _than I actually did, and that on top of this newfound Dream Duty was, as one might imagine, a _bit _of a strain. But I managed to keep my voice level as I returned her energetic greeting.

"Oh, Celine! Good morning."

She giggled. "I was just calling you to remind you, you offered to give me a ride to class this morning. Is that still okay?"

Ah! I'd forgotten. "Of course. What time's your class, again?"

"Nine. Are you sure it's still okay, Sai? Because I can take the bus…"

"No, no. I don't mind, really. And I said I would." I glanced at my wristwatch, and was amazed to find that three whole hours had passed since I had been awakened from the dream. "I'll, ahh…I'll be over in about half an hour, all right?"

"That's perfect. Thanks, babe." She made a loud kissing noise into the phone, and I shut my eyes and drew my eyebrows together. "See ya soon! Love ya!"

So, my morning had been decided for me. On my way to pick up Celine, I decided that, the sooner I confronted Ryuuen about a possible glowing Chinese symbol infestation, the better. I'd see her tonight, I thought…I'd set a study date, or something. Anything. But I had to see her tonight…

~*~Ryuuen~*~

There was darkness. I couldn't see anything moving around me, but I had the impression of being moved, of being drawn up out of my body and swept away into a night so thick that it was hard to breathe. And, then, suddenly, the darkness got larger, somehow, not so much in my vision as in my mind, and I felt something like a great warm breath on my cheeks—a tropical wind, a puff of heated air against a chill like winter. And, then, he was around me and in me and there was a crimson mist in place of the blackness, and I wasn't afraid. 

He spoke, but not to me. His voice was a rumble of life and death, loud and jarring but somehow soothing at the same time, and I knew that I belonged to him even before the word "god" trickled into my mind. And, then, there was a flash of a vaguely-familiar face—smooth, bronzed skin, slender dark eyebrows, eyes of glittering amber, all bathed in a warm red glow—and I felt the dream fading, felt myself falling back into reality—

The alarm clock was screeching. 

Shaking and covered in a cold sweat, I threw the blankets onto the floor and sat up. I hated the sound alarm clocks made, I really did. It was grating and jarring and made me want to clamp my hands over my ears and scream--even so, I didn't make a move to turn it off for several minutes, sitting there on the edge of my bed with my eyes closed and my hand pressed up over them. I was still trembling, and weirdly enough, it wasn't from fear. It was a feeling unlike any I'd ever experienced before, and I found myself thinking that if I could just sit here and focus on the feeling for long enough, I might be able to muddle through its meaning, make some sense of that weird, surreal dream...

Unfortunately, I never got the chance, as the girl next door had started to pound her fists against the wall. 

"Okay, okay!" I shouted, pulling the hand from my eyes and standing up. "I'll shut it off! Sorry!"  
  
The pounding stopped. Sighing, I straightened the rumpled satin of my pajamas, flipped a mass of violet hair over my shoulders, and trudged over to the desk. I'd been kind of distracted lately, so I hadn't gotten around to cleaning up, yet--to reach the alarm, I had to pick my way over mixed mounds of jeans, tank tops, T-shirts, and ankle-length skirts, as well as the remains of the care package Aunt Melanie'd sent me and a pile of colored notecards that'd somehow spilled into a Go Fish pattern on the carpet. Finally, bleary-eyed and getting depressed at the thought of all the cleaning ahead of me, I stopped at the desk and slammed my hand down hard on the alarm clock-- 

--and blinked in shock. "What the…?" 

Frowning, I lifted my hand from the desk top, dropped to my knees to peer at the remains of the clock. Shards of black plastic and a bundle of squished red and black wires lay scattered on the edge of the desk, still quivering slightly from the impact of my hand, and from the rusty splotches…

A little shakily, I lifted my right hand. Sure enough, my palm was bleeding, and in more than one place.

What kind of a stupid cheap alarm clock…? Geez, I hadn't hit it _that _hard. _That's the last time I buy one of these things at the dollar store…_

As washing the blood off suddenly seemed like a good idea, I stood up and walked over to the closet, then grabbed my shower stuff and headed for the door. If there was one thing I hated more than alarm clocks, it was showering…but, since I also hated smelling like a basket of old socks, it'd become one my daily rituals over the last few years. At least, it was still early--only about seven thirty--and, if the few girls I'd met in my hall so far were any indication, I wasn't going to have much competition for the single shower. Which was good, because there was no way in _hell_ I was gonna use the group shower. Shudder.

I slipped out into the hall with my bloodied hand pressed up against my chest, a basket of Bath & Body Works stuff dangling from my wrist and a towel slung over my shoulder. The hall itself was, as I'd expected, pretty empty at this hour. I could hear the echo of somebody's Puddle of Mudd CD blaring from the guys' half of the floor, but other than that, there wasn't much sign of life. Not that I'd expected to find the place crawling with activity, or something…but, I don't know, the lack of life was kind of creepy—especially since the handicapped shower, the only one with any kind of privacy in the whole place, was way down at the end of the hallway where all the empty rooms were…

Despite my worries, I made it to the shower without being attacked or molested, and went inside feeling jumpy but a little more at ease. The room itself was set up like a pretty typical bathroom, with a toilet, sink, and mirror in one corner, and the massive handicapped shower in the other. Of course, it smelled like Lysol and had a bizarre green fungus growing in the corner, but then, that was what shower shoes and scented body wash were for, right?

I dropped my basket onto the floor and got the water started—it always took a little while to warm up, especially in the mornings—then went over to the sink and stopped in front of it. I'd meant to look a little more closely at my injured hand, maybe wash it out a bit and make sure that there weren't any little pieces of plastic stuck in it, but I got distracted. Mirrors had always been a thing of fascination for me, even when I was a little girl and Mom was still taking care of me. There was just something about them that drew me in—I mean, when else did we get a chance to see ourselves like that, to get a glimpse of what everybody else saw when they looked at us?   
  
Unfortunately, as I'd gotten older, what I saw grew more and more disappointing.

I wasn't bad looking, I really wasn't. In fact, I was fairly sure that I was pretty—maybe even exceptionally pretty. My face was small and heart-shaped, and my complexion—while a little pale—was smooth and unblemished, and made a good contrast to my eyes, which were a few shades darker than my hair. My face was great, wonderful, fine—small nose, high cheekbones, full lips, well-shaped eyebrows, even a little beauty mark beneath my left eye… 

I sighed, averting my eyes before my gaze could wander downwards.   
  
…it was the rest of my body that was the disappointment.

I mean, hey, it wasn't like I wanted to look like Cindy Crawford or something…but, couldn't I at least have _some_ semblance of a figure? It…it wasn't fair. I wasn't vain, I really wasn't, but my body was just so…so…_ugly_. Sighing again, I turned away from the mirror and stretched my arms down, grabbed onto the bottom of my pajama shirt and tugged it up over my head. A cold breeze swept against my bare skin, then, making me shiver, but I tried to ignore it. Instead, I bent, and—keeping my eyes squeezed tightly shut—dragged at the elastic waistband of my pajama bottoms, pulled them downwards, and stepped out of them. 

It was kind of a trick, finding my towel with my eyes closed, but I managed--I felt along the floor with both hands, retracing my steps as best I could…and, then, my fingers latched onto the familiar scratchy cotton and I let out a silent breath of relief. I pulled the towel around my body as quickly as humanly possible, tucking it beneath my arms and wrapping it around my back, and then made a quick little knot at the front and opened my eyes.

I tried not to look at the mirror as I walked over to the shower, and succeeded for the most part. The bathroom was starting to get muggy with steam, so the glass was already fogging up, but there was still enough of it exposed that I had to avert my eyes to keep from glimpsing anything of myself as I moved. And, then, the rubbery curtain was in my fingers, and I was stepping into the shower. 

Once inside, away from the imagined prying eyes of the bathroom and safe behind the curtain, I turned my gaze upward, grabbed the knot at my chest, and pulled the towel away from my skin. There was no chill this time, as I was already wrapped up in the heat of the water, but it wasn't a _good_ feeling. Then again, it never was. 

After tucking the towel onto the rack and unpacking my basket of Bath & Body Works stuff, I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath, and stepped under a spray of warm, warm water. It rushed all around me, flattening my hair and pouring over my cheeks and streaking down over my non-existent curves like tight-fitting clothing. And, with my eyes closed and the water soothing into my muscles, I could almost pretend that I was somewhere else, some_one_ else. I could almost pretend that I was just a normal girl, taking her normal shower and washing her normal body. Under the water, as long as I kept my eyes closed, I could forget.

After awhile, though, my lungs started to burn, and I had to step back, draw in a deep breath of air and come back to myself. As I worked the lavender-scented shampoo into my long hair, kneading the suds against my scalp in rhythmic circles, I found myself once again faced with the task of finding a distraction. Shampooing wasn't all thatbad, particularly since all my attention was focused upwards…but, in just a few minutes, I was going to have to wash the rest of my body, and so it was either let myself get horribly depressed again, or find something else to think about. So, as I usually did, I started scanning my memory for possible topics. It was always better, I'd found, to have something I felt strongly about to think about while showering, because that way--not only did the time go by quickly and without me noticing much of anything--but, I usually ended up solving whatever the problem was by the time I'd washed all the soap from my skin.

It didn't take all that long for me to come up with something. 

The mere thought of him made me feel vaguely queasy, like I'd eaten a big meal and then gone dancing, or something. He was a freshman, too, and a prospective business major if what he'd told me was true. He had the look of money to him, always dressed in stylish blazers and neatly-ironed dress shirts and slacks, and despite the fact that he was, quite possibly, the most attractive man or woman I'd ever seen in my entire life, I hadn't given him more than a second glance until just about a week ago. And, even then, it was more because I pitied him than anything else.

I smirked, pulling the bath rag into my hands and squeezing a generous amount of body wash onto it. It was so ironic and stupid, _me_ pitying _him_. He had looks, money, intelligence, an expensive apartment just off-campus… And, a girlfriend. He had…a girlfriend. 

I mean…not that I wanted to date him, or something. God, no. But, still, it was a little disheartening, to look at someone and maybe make that first tentative step towards friendship and know, at the same time, that you'll always be upstaged by the girl you've never even met. Celine. I'd only heard him speak the name once, when she called during our first writing session, but he spoke it well—it rolled off his tongue, evidence of the years of French he'd taken in high school, and although the emotion that rolled with it certainly wasn't mad passion…at least it was fondness; affection. Of course, Saihitei Seishuku didn't strike me as the type to let it show to some random girl from his Creative Writing class if he _did _experience mad passion…but, still. 

I washed some of the suds from the rag, squeezed another dollop of body wash onto it and started scrubbing at my collarbone. I barely even noticed as the rag wandered down over my chest, as I was lost in remembering that first day we'd spoken, only a week ago yesterday. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn't my best work, it really wasn't. And, if what I'd heard of Mitchell was true, I'd probably be getting a chance, very shortly, to hear just _why_ it wasn't my best work. But… I sighed, forcing myself to calm down by drawing in long, heavy deep breaths and then letting them out through my nose. But, hey, I'd wanted to be a writer, and with being a writer came criticism—I was just going to have to get used to having my writing ripped apart, and why not sooner rather than later? Besides, it wasn't like I was claiming to be a poet, or something—I was a fiction writer, damn it! So what if Professor Mitchell didn't like what I'd written? It wasn't like I was investing my entire _future_ into this dinky little poem, right?   
  
I nodded inwardly. Right.

So, why were my hands still shaking? 

Sighing, I folded my arms on the desk and thudded my chin down onto them. I'd been sitting like that for a few minutes, vaguely aware of the sounds of students meandering in from the hallway, when I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I straightened a little suddenly, head turning to the side in search of the source of the movement—and, only a second later, he stepped into view.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, muscular like a football player but with a slimness to him that made him seem more like a dancer than anything else. He certainly had the grace of one, picking his way to the seat beside me with delicate arm movements and a fluid strength that I couldn't help but envy. As it was, there were a few things that I noticed right away about him—first of all, his hair was nearly as long as mine, a flood of silken chestnut that stretched down a little past the middle of his back; second of all, his eyes were a very strange shade that glowed like amber in the flourescent lights; and, third of all—and probably most importantly—he was smiling at me. 

Something like electricity shot through me, and I promptly blushed.

Professor Mitchell came striding in a few moments later, but I barely noticed. Random and not-so-random lines from the Godfather (_Miiiichael! You been hit wit da thundabolt!)_ were spinning in my mind, and as such, I spent most of the first few minutes staring dutifully at my desk top and trying to coax the blush out of my cheeks. What was wrong with me, anyway?? I didn't get _crushes_, for God's sake! And, yet, here I was, sitting at my desk with all the symptoms of a crush on the guy sitting next to me, and all he'd done was smile at me and nod a little! 

Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe he can inspire you to write a beautiful love poem that Professor Mitchell will actually -like-.

Speaking of…

I realized with a start that Mitchell was standing right beside me, gazing down at Good-Looking Guy Next To Me's desk with an evil glint in his eyes. He stretched down a hand and grabbed up the guy's paper, then held it up in front of his glasses and peered at it. 

"Ahhh, Mr. Seishuku," he said in that smooth, cultured voice of his. "Let's see what wondrous creative work you have produced for our listening pleasure, now, shall we?"

I let myself hope that maybe "Mr. Seishuku"—Saihitei, as I could see scrawled in neat handwriting at the top of his paper—had written a great poem, and that Dr. Mitchell would realize that and lay off on the guy. I let myself cling to that hope, even as Mitchell read the words aloud and I heard his lip curling in distaste. I was _still _hoping that, in fact, up until the moment when he slapped the paper back onto the desk, folded his arms over his chest, and launched into an astute but ego-shattering criticism session that made me—and quite a few others, I was sure—wince in shared agony.

By the end of it, I was clenching my hands on the edge of the desk to keep from lashing out. Good God, what was wrong with this guy? So, it wasn't Shakespeare, give the guy a freaking break! And, besides, it really _wasn't_ that bad of a poem. The wording was a little clumsy, yeah, and at some places, the metaphors seemed a little forced, but the rhyme scheme was very well-done and the content was absolutely amazing. I mean, sure, the mechanics of the thing were a little less than stellar, but it was obvious that the heart of the poem was high-quality stuff! If Mitchell couldn't see that, then he was even more of an idiot than I'd thought!

I was still thundering on through my inner rages when, unexpectedly, Mitchell's eyes turned on to me. "And, how have you fared, Miss Chou?" His eyes, I could see, were dark green, and they looked wider and…well, _eviller _beneath the huge frames of the glasses. His eyebrow lifted. "Slightly better than your neighbor, I would hope."  
  
Okay, this was it. I drew in a deep breath, watched the fingers draw my poem up into the air, and steeled myself for the worst.

The adjective choice is dull and uninspired. The wording in the second stanza is awkward. The central idea gets fuzzy about five lines in, and stays fuzzy until the last two lines. The writing doesn't flow well. The handwriting is messy. The ink is smudgy. The paper is crumpled in the left-hand corner. Oh, and you're not a real girl. You never were. Just save us all some trouble and go die somewhere, you disgusting pathetic freak.

"Hmm," said Mitchell, cutting into my thoughts. He was staring down at my words, tapping a ballpoint pen against his chin as he read. "Hmm!" he said again. "This is a very interesting use of simile here in the third stanza, Miss Chou. And, although you have used a cliché here in the third line, you've changed the wording just enough for it not to feel tired or overused. Oh, and your central idea is…inspired, to say the least. Whatever prompted you to write about this subject?"  
  
Feeling a little breathless with shock, I nonetheless managed to answer without too long of a pause. _What is this, some kind of trick? _"I-I guess it's because I've always been interested in the things people do on Halloween," I managed. I was going to leave it at that, but as both Saihitei and Mitchell seemed to be frowning at me, I went on. "I…I mean, Halloween is a time when ordinary people get to dress up as…not-so-ordinary people. They can change the way they look, as well as the way they feel. They can…become different people, but no matter what they do, at the end of the night they're still…the same, underneath. I-I guess that's what I was trying to get at."  
  
Mitchell was silent for a long time—for so long, in fact, that I began to wonder if maybe it _was _all just some elaborate, cruel-hearted joke… And, then, he turned back to me, lowered the paper gently onto my desk, and gave a quick nod. "Well," he said. "You capture the essence of that feeling surprisingly well. Well done, Miss Chou. Well done." He glanced back at Saihitei, who was sitting there with his palms pressed flat against his poem as if trying to hide it.

"You, Mr. Seishuku, could benefit greatly from following this young woman's example. She has defied convention and managed to bring something new to even the tiredest of clichés—and she did it, might I add, in a short, concise poem that did not have to resort to _rhyme_ in order to function. You could _all_ stand to benefit from following in her footsteps." His lips bent into a slight smile. "Not that I believe you all _can_, of course…but, this, after all, is a class graded primarily on effort, and…"  
  
I drowned the rest of the words out, feeling hot and angry. Why had he said that?? Why couldn't he just let it be, let the praise stand and then walk away? Agggggghhhh, men sucked!!!

The rest of period was a blur to me—I could barely get my own thoughts to flow straight, let alone focus on Mitchell's droning lecture. Thankfully, before long, there was the familiar rustle of college kids shoving notebooks into their bookbags, and then Mitchell stood and waved his hand, and thank God, we were dismissed—

--and, Saihitei Seishuku was out of his chair and out the door in about two seconds flat.

I don't know why it seemed so important that I catch up to him, but it did. So, I grabbed my books and shoved them into my bag, and even though Mitchell was eying me like he wanted to say something, I brushed past him and sped out the door. Rude, yes. Did I care terribly much right now? No. I dashed out into the hall, spun in the direction I'd seen Saihitei going…and, was just in time to crash into someone hard enough to knock loose a tooth.

"Ahhh, I'm so sorry, I—"

I found myself gazing up into soft amber eyes, and was so startled for a moment that I didn't realize just how close I'd ended up standing to him. So close, in fact, that if I were to take just one little tiny step forward, our chests would be touching…

I snapped out of it pretty quickly, blushed, and took a definite step _backwards_. "I'm sorry," I repeated with a sheepish grin. "I-I didn't realize you were there."

He didn't smile at me, exactly…but, then, he looked pretty tired all of a sudden. _Weary_, my writer's vocabulary informed me. "It's all right," Saihitei murmured. He wasn't looking at me, staring instead at the large round clock that rested on the wall behind me. "It was an accident. Not a big deal." His eyes lifted from the clock for a split second, flickered onto me, and his lips lifted into a thin, close-mouthed smile.

For a long moment, I couldn't seem to think of anything to say…so, I just stood there, staring at him as if that would help somehow, and tried vainly to force coherent words to come from my lips. I guess I didn't come up with them fast enough, though, because he spoke before I did.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding a little distracted, "I forgot to give him the assignment." He gave a short laugh—it sounded more than a little bitter to me. "Not as though that would cause him any sort of trauma, but…please, excuse me for just a moment." 

And, before I could say a word, he'd brushed past me and gone back into the room. 

I sighed, slipped through the flood of students to the doorway, and leaned my back up against the wall right next to it. Fine, he wanted to play that game? I'd wait him out. Wondering—and not for the first time since I'd left the room—just why talking to this guy seemed so important all of a sudden, I cradled my books to my chest, leaned my head back against the wall, and tried to think of just what I was going to _say_ once he returned.

As it was, I didn't have long to think. Only a couple seconds later, he stepped out into the hall, turned in my direction—and, came to an abrupt halt just in front of me. His eyes widened.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Umm…hello, again…" 

He looked like he was struggling to find the words to say something—probably, I thought, trying to figure out a polite way of telling me to get lost—so, I decided to take the initiative for once and not give him the chance.

"Look," I said a little quickly, "I just…wanted to apologize."

He blinked, and again that flicker of surprise lifted at his eyebrows. "A…apologize?" he echoed. "Whatever for?"

"Well…" I wanted to look him in the eye, I really did. I wanted him to see the sincerity in my face and hear it in my voice and know that I wasn't trying to flirt with him, I really wasn't, but that I just wanted him to understand that I was sorry and… _Sigh_. But, I just couldn't. My gaze fell to the floor, and my words came out sounding soft and stupid. "It's just that…well, what Professor Mitchell said to you… It wasn't kind. And, it wasn't right of him, to say all that. I'm…I'm sorry that he did."

There was silence for long enough that I dared lift my eyes, peer a little fearfully at his face. I was just in time to watch an expression of sheer and utter astonishment fade, relax into a startlingly-gentle smile. "It's all right," he said. "Certainly, he was a little…_vocal_…but—" He shrugged. "I can't say I didn't deserve at least half of it, with my writing talent…or, lack thereof."

"No, no! Don't say that! You…" I could feel my cheeks getting hot, and my voice dropped in volume accordingly. "You're very talented. You just…have trouble sometimes, I think, getting the words to do what you want them to. But…but, that just takes practice."  
  
He was smiling—a good sign, I guessed. "That's very nice of you to say," he murmured. "Thank you. I must say, I'm glad he didn't do that same to you. Not that it would have been due to any sort of flaw in your writing, which I thought was…very good. A good subject."   
  
And, that was that. He turned, tugging a slim black book satchel along with him, and started off down the hallway…and, it felt as if all the emotions that had been rising to the top of my mind were suddenly and inexplicably _dropped_. They landed into my stomach a second later—_thud_—and I was just resigning myself to trudging back to Forbes and moping over a blueberry muffin, when I realized that he'd stopped.   
  
He'd halted a few steps down the corridor, was standing facing me with his eyebrows raised and his arms held out a bit at the sides. _Aren't you coming? _he seemed to ask.

I was more than a little surprised, but I regained my composure pretty quickly—for me, anyway—and hurried after him. Once I'd caught up and was beside him—good God, he was tall!—he started forward again, and we made our way to the front entrance of the building. And, despite the fact that I'd been at the University of Pittsburgh for more than five months, now, it was a new experience for me. I had a few friends and acquaintances that I'd collected from one class to the next, but—despite the fact that I'd been asked out by at least six guys over the last semester—I typically tried to avoid being walked to classes by any of them. It wasn't that I had something against being walked to class, but more that I just had never felt _comfortable_ with any of those guys, like their only thoughts when they looked at me were, _Gee, I wonder how long it's gonna take before I can get this girl back to my dorm room and prove what a freakin' pervert I am._

And, yet, for some reason, I didn't get anything of that vibe from Saihitei. So, I reasoned, he was either a true gentleman, the last of a dying breed…or, he was gay. Whatever the case, it definitely made me feel a little more at ease.

"So," he said as we started down the front steps, "your name is Ryuuen?"

Since I was feeling a little more relaxed, I actually let the books I usually kept pressed up against my chest drop, and answered without pausing or stuttering. "Yeah. And, yours is Saihitei?"

We thudded down the last of the stairs, hit the sidewalk in front of the Cathedral of Learning, and started off at a brisk walk for the edge of the road—Bigelow, I was pretty sure it was called—that bisected the upper and lower campuses. 

"That's right," he replied after a moment. "Saihitei Seishuku. In case you didn't catch that from the revolting way it rolls off Professor Mitchell's tongue." And, then, he'd juggled the folder he was holding into his left hand, and was holding out the other hand for me to shake. "It's nice to meet you."

I almost—_almost_—didn't take his hand. As it was, I did spend a long moment hesitating before I finally did, but then I lifted my hand and let his larger fingers swallow mine up…and, the warmth of the touch shot up my arm like fire. I could only hold the handshake for a few seconds before I had to pull my fingers free. Then—blushing fiercely but hoping, somehow, that Saihitei wouldn't notice—I tugged my books back to my chest and managed a reply. "I-It's nice to meet you, too."

Apparently, he _didn't_ notice, because he plunged onward into the next line of conversation with barely a pause. "So, are you an English major? Or, are you just taking this class for—" He gave a comic wince. "—fun?"

I laughed, more at the look on his face than anything else. "Well, actually, I'm undecided—it's only the second semester of Freshman year, after all. But, I'm planning on being an English Writing major. It's not all that practical, of course--" I smiled a little shyly. "--but, it's helpful for surviving Creative Writing classes, at least."

Saihitei gave a solemn nod. "I'm in the School of Business. I was under the false understanding that this course would be a relaxing and enjoyable gen ed." He shook his head, glanced at me briefly with a speculative kind of smile, and then faced front again. "But, it's good that you're planning on majoring in something that you enjoy doing."

There was a slight pause as we strolled over the crosswalk, joining the flow of pedestrian traffic and effectively cutting off the flow of motor traffic…but, once we'd reached the other side, I drew a deep breath and actually spoke without prodding. "Hey, uhh…Saihitei. I… Have you… Well, I mean…" 

Okay, stop. Deep breath. Start over.

"Have you started that assignment due on Tuesday, yet? The short story?"

His eyebrows raised. "Ahh…no. Are you kidding?" He chuckled, slipping both hands into the pockets of his slacks as we turned the corner onto Forbes Avenue. "I was going to wait and see how he liked my first assignment before beginning the second. And, right now, for some odd reason, I'm feeling rather uninspired."

I smiled briefly, ignoring the voices inside of me demanding to know what in the _hell_ I thought I was doing, and continued. "Well, ahhh…if you wanted to, I'd be happy to help you get started. If you need it, of course."

He blinked, turned and stared at me as if I'd just told him that I secretly believed the earth to be flat and made of cottage cheese. "I…I'd appreciate that, of course. But…are you sure?"

And, oddly enough, I was. "Yes, I'm sure. I've already got my paper mostly finished, and it's not like I've got something better to do. Besides, don't you want to see Mitchell's face, when you turn in something fantastic and he has to admit it?"

He smiled, turned back to me and opened his mouth—

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

—and I realized, very suddenly, that the shower water had gone cold.

How long have I been in here??

I shivered violently, only just barely resisting the urge to wrap my arms over my chest. Instead, I reached forward and switched off the flow of water, and that helped a little. It wasn't until I snagged the towel from the rack and wrapped it around myself that I started to get warm again, though, and even then, the moisture was like ice on my skin. How long _had_ I been in here? It wasn't like taking long showers had ever been a problem of mine in the past. Typically, it was get in, wash, and get out—speed was more important than efficiency, and finishing the shower and getting dressed again was the goal, attained no matter what the cost to hygiene. 

And, yet, here I was, wrinkled and cold and clean several times over, and if the water temperature hadn't have dropped so suddenly, I would probably have _still_ been standing there under the water reminiscing. What _was_ it about that guy that did this to me?? 

Sighing, I pushed aside the curtain and stepped out into the bathroom, made my way over to the sink to comb out my hair. I noticed the piece of soap on the floor but didn't pay it much attention—my thoughts were still spinning around the unheard of amount of time I'd spent showering, and as such, it wasn't until my foot had landed directly on it that I realized the danger.   
  
Slick foot + slick soap + distracted Ryuuen = ?

I gave a little cry of surprise as my foot slid out from underneath me, grabbed reflexively for the sink as I went plunging downwards—and caught myself just in time. I hung there for a minute, then, clutching onto the chill porcelain of the sink with my legs pushing towards the ground at odd angles, and tried to catch my breath. My heart was racing, and the slow realization of just how close I'd come to bashing my head off the edge of the sink was beginning to trickle into my brain—crap, I could've cracked my skull open or broken a leg or…! And, then, my gaze slipped upwards to the mirror, hanging there above the sink, and…I froze.

The fall had jarred the knot I'd tied in the towel, made it slip down to my waist, where—thankfully—it still hung, but… A high, strangled sound worked its way up my throat, sprang from my lips like a sob. But…my chest…

I wanted to look away. God, I wanted to look away so badly, to go into my room and put my clothes back on and fall back under the illusion of being a normal, healthy, happy eighteen-year-old girl. But, for some reason, I couldn't tear my eyes away from that horrible image in the mirror, that disgusting awful ugly _wrong_ image that was suddenly all I could think about and all I could focus on. All thoughts of Saihitei fell into the dark recesses of my mind, then, and there was nothing but that _boy_ with my face; that _boy_ with the flat, smooth, ugly chest; that boy who stared back at me with wide, haunted eyes as if he might burst into tears…

And, then he did, and all I could do was clutch onto the edge of the sink and cry with him. 

It wasn't his fault, it really wasn't. It wasn't his fault. But, maybe it was mine.

~*~*~*~*~*~

* * *


	2. Chapter One, Part II

**WRITTEN IN THE STARS**

**(by Ryuen and Purple Mouse :P )**

**Chapter One**

**Part Two**

_~*~Saihitei~*~_

The world looks very different when one has just discovered that one is important. I still did not know exactly _how I was important; however, the mystical symbol and prophetic dream rather gave the game away. But the effect it had on the way I saw the world…well…it was __amazing._

I usually saw things in shades of gray. Not literally, of course. But…the world was a place where I lived, nothing more. There was the occasional beautiful sunset, the occasional awe-inspiring scene…but after the sun had disappeared, after the scene had ended, I had to go back to live my life again. To be someone who wasn't _me, fulfilling the aspirations of everyone but myself._

To say I was miserable would be an overstatement, I think. I do not, however, believe that I was ever truly happy, the way my life was going. And sometimes, in my weaker moments, I would think that the only reason I was _not miserable was because I told myself not to be. Miserable people did not merit a respectable job in a respectable corporation. Especially when that job would be as the company head, and that corporation was my inheritance. _

Logic had dictated that I accept my family's plans that I should become the head of my father's business when he retired, and so I had played along, shoving any desires of my own in the back of my mind, because they simply weren't important. And the world had become as drab as my prospects. It was as if I had locked all the color away, afraid that one indulgence in something that _I liked, something that __I wanted, would spoil me forever for The Grand Plan. When I was still living at home, I would be moved to write poems…and would write them almost fearfully, feeling like a thief, dreading the consequences that would arise if anyone should catch me. With love, it was the same way. I had had crushes before; not many, but they had been there. All of them had been on men, starting in the ninth grade. And I had never acted on any of them. Logically, again, I needed a __wife if I were to continue the family line, and had realized this at a painfully early age. I often thought that Konan Insurance was comparable to the history of the ruling kings of Britain. Heir or destruction. Civil war if reproduction fails. And all that. It was…so __medieval, in a way, and deep inside, I resented that. But I would not let myself feel, at least not for long, because feeling inevitably led to misery._

The changes, I suppose, had begun this semester, with my decision to take Creative Writing. I wouldn't have done so, to tell the truth, if it had been completely up to me, but the general education requirements—which existed, I suppose, to guarantee that everyone who passed through the shining gates of the University of Pittsburgh with A Well-Rounded Education—had called for an English class. And voilà.

And now I was important, without knowing why. And the world was…perfect.

Except for Celine.

As I pulled into the circle drive of her dorm, a bit of my previous melancholy returned to me, and I sighed. Given the circumstances, I don't think it would be unusual for me to admit that I did feel a certain amount of guilt where Celine was concerned. I liked her, make no mistake. But I would never _love her, not in the way she probably already thought I loved her. And…she deserved better than that. I was using her life, manipulating her emotions, just so __I could please my overbearing family. It was selfish, and I hated myself for it. But what could I do? What can someone who has grown up in my position, having his future practically built for him, do?_

If I were brave, I thought, I would tell her the truth. But I wasn't eager to hurt her. One way or another, I would hurt her anyway. And I didn't really relish the idea of doing so any time soon.

"Hi!" she greeted when she arrived, hopping into the passenger seat. Brushing her long, blonde bangs from her face, she grinned and leaned over to kiss me. "Thanks so much, I reeeeally appreciate this."

"I told you I didn't mind," I reminded her with false cheer. 

"Yeah, well, that doesn't make it any less sweet. So, what's up for tonight? Do you wanna go out?"

_Tonight. No; I had to find Ryuuen tonight, and who knew how long that would take._

"Ahh, I…I can't tonight," I said apologetically, feeling even guiltier as her face fell. "I'm sorry; I have a meeting today with my business club." _Why, you lying, arrogant… Did that really come that easily? Was it really that easy to betray the woman you're supposed to love? _

Celine kept her chin up, though, and was soon smiling brightly again. I felt a bit ill. "Hey, no problem. I know how important that stuff is to you. We can do stuff on Saturday or something…try out that new Italian place, maybe?"

I nodded as we pulled into the street. "Sure, that sounds like fun."

We chattered inanely for the rest of the ride; she groaned about the intricacies involved in switching colleges—she was attempting to move from LAS to Education—and I added sympathetic and encouraging comments when necessary. When we arrived at Thaw Hall, she kissed me again, thanked me again, grabbed her bag, and left. I watched her go into the building, tall and slender and practically perfect, not being able to tear my eyes away. Not because my heart called out to her in any kind of romantic fervor. It was more like regret. 

_Why couldn't I love her? Why couldn't I make both our lives easier by being in love with her? So she was female. So what? Love was supposed to transcend everything, even gender. To say I liked men and only men, and could never fall in love with a woman, was just as closed-minded as saying I liked only women, shoving away any possibility of a different kind of relationship. She was everything anyone could ever want. _

Why couldn't I love her?

_Must get these thoughts out of my head. _

I switched on the radio, drowning out the discourse in my mind with moderately loud popular fare. I wasn't terribly fond of pop, but found, in this situation, that it served to better muffle my thoughts than Chopin. But as soon as I had parked my car and begun walking to my own class, the relative silence again gave rise to annoying pondering. Celine, my parents, my life…

…My newfound destiny.

Hotohori, the voice had called me. Hotohori. Suzaku no Shichiseishi…

_Wouldn't it be ironic, I thought, __if it really WAS just a dream? If my repressed emotions are finally making a stand and driving me completely and utterly MAD??_

But Ryuuen, I supposed, would be the deciding factor of that. And deep in my heart, I hoped it was real.

The cool breeze blew my hair back from my face as I neared the math building—my class that day, unfortunately, was economics—and I squinted my eyes. Winter was _not an enjoyable season in Pennsylvania, and I began to wish I'd worn a thicker coat. Somehow, however, the image that came to mind of me in an overstuffed winter ensemble, barely able to move my arms like the poor child in that Christmas movie, was rather unappealing, and with a shudder that had nothing to do with the weather, I decided to sacrifice warmth for physical charm._

My class wasn't until noon, so I had been planning to sit around in the lounge and get started on some astronomy homework (another one of my General Education Requirements). But, as luck would have it, just as I was about to pull open the door to the building, I happened to glance to my left…

…And there was Ryuuen, heading down the sidewalk in the direction of Posvar Hall.

I stopped short, blinking at the coincidence, then hurried over to meet her, with the hope that I could set a "date" for this evening. A study date, to work on our newest Creative Writing assignment; we'd had them before, so there was nothing unusual about that.

_You realize, if you ask her about the kanji and she has no idea what you're talking about, this friendship you've made with her could go down the drain._

But I _had to ask her. I __had to. Perhaps I could figure out a tactful way of doing it, a way that wouldn't make her think I was a psychopath if I was wrong. Perhaps. But I could ponder that later; all I needed to do now was __ask her to meet with me._

She was walking with another girl, one I didn't know. As I approached, though, all that mattered was Ryuuen. I was not so engrossed in my sexuality that I could not appreciate beauty in women, and there was no mistaking the fact that Ryuuen was very pretty, in an innocent, rather unusual sort of way. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed with the cold, and she had a rainbow-striped scarf around her neck, which brought out the lovely violet color of her hair. Her eyes were cast down, staring at the sidewalk from under long lashes, as was her habit; for some reason, she never looked up when she walked. 

The other girl was chattering at her side, bouncing happily. But Ryuuen just looked…sad.

She often looked sad, I thought, and frowned. There was always an air of melancholy around her, and at times, when I saw her in class, I could swear she was trying to hold back tears. When she was with me, when we were alone and working, her face would light up at times, and she would smile. But normally…

_When she's with me…_

_…When she's… _

_Ahh._

I sighed sadly. So, Ryuuen had a crush on me. Who knows why it took me so long to notice, but I was now certain I was right. A slight pain settled in my chest, and I wished that these things wouldn't happen. It was bad enough actually _having a girlfriend whom I did not love, and I had no desire to cause anyone else pain. Especially Ryuuen, whose perpetual sadness betrayed the fact that she had probably been hurt enough already._

_But I can use this to my advantage, can't I? If she's in love with me, she'll be more inclined to meet with me…more inclined to listen to what I have to say._

_For heaven's sake. Exactly how selfish AM I?_

She looked up as I neared, rose-colored eyes widening when she saw it was me, and stopped walking. Her friend looked puzzled, but stopped, as well, gazing up at me curiously and—to my dismay—appraisingly.

"Hello," I smiled, my breath making small trails of mist in the chill morning air. 

~*~_Ryuuen~*~_

Stephanie was waiting for me downstairs, leaning up against the email kiosks with her tiny backpack slung over one shoulder. Her fingers tangled in her hair, twisting long, honey-colored strands in little circles, and from the way her jaw was moving, she was either chewing gum _really enthusiastically, or else she was talking to the security guard again. And, since I was pretty sure that that vaguely-good-looking Doug guy was the one who worked on Friday mornings, it was a good bet that that's what she was doing. Whatever the case, though, she stopped it as soon as she saw me get out of the elevator, and skipped over to the glass partition to wait for me. _

It hadn't taken all that long for me to get accustomed to all the security precautions at Pitt. It'd been a little bit of a surprise at first, of course, to know that I had to swipe my card and show it to the guard before I could even get into my own building, but the precautions made sense, I guessed. I mean, hey, I wouldn't want to know that just anybody off the streets of Pittsburgh was running around in the halls I lived in. But, still, it got to be a hassle, sometimes, having to sign people in and out of the dorms—not that I'd ever had to do that more than once or twice, of course…but, still. The potential for a hassle was there.

I pushed open the door, giving Doug the Security Guard a brief nod that I hoped he wouldn't take wrongly. From the wide grin that spread across his face and the—I winced—_wink that followed, it was pretty obvious that he had. But, oh, well. At least there was an inch of bullet-proof glass between us…_

"Hey!" Stephanie exclaimed as soon as I pushed open the door. "Ree-yuuuuuen! Thought you weren't gonna show up for a minute there!"

Having grown more than accustomed to people mispronouncing my name, I didn't bother correcting her. Futile battles, and all that. Instead, I managed a smile. "Hi, Stephanie. No, I was just…running late. Something wrong with my alarm clock."

I decided to leave out the fact that said alarm clock was currently lying in a pile of plastic and wires in my garbage can.

Stephanie gave me an over-exaggerated I Like, Sooo Relate To What You're Saying nod, and then squealed, "Ahhh, don't you _hate that??"_

I nodded. "Yeah, it's certainly a pain…" As if suddenly remembering it was there, I looked down at my watch, then raised both eyebrows and gave a little gasp of surprise. "Hey, it's almost ten 'til. We ought to get going."

Stephanie shrugged, pulling out a pair of fuzzy pink mittens and starting to tug them delicately onto her hands. "Eh, it's only Anthr¾ hey, wait a sec!" Before I could move away, she'd tucked the remaining mitten beneath her arm and grabbed onto my right wrist, dragged it up into view. "What happened to your hand? Ryuuen? Why's it all wrapped up??"

I ripped my hand away, more out of reflex than anything else, and was _really surprised when it slipped out of her fingers with almost ridiculous ease. It was __so easy, in fact, that I went crashing backwards from the movement, lost my balance completely--and slammed my back up against the door. And then __wham, my head hit into the metal and everything went wobbly for a second. _

Immediately, there was the muffled squeak of a chair being pushed back, followed by the thud of footsteps and the squeak-slam of the Out Door flying open. "Ohhhh my God, are you okay??"

I lifted my bandaged hand, touched gingerly at the back of my skull…and winced. Ouch. Well, there wasn't a lump there, yet, but there sure as hell would be soon. Shaking my head to clear it, I turned, and was just in time to see Doug the Security Guard reaching towards me with both hands, apparently planning on helping me back into something of a more stable standing position—

It was weird, but ever since grade school, I'd never been able to stand being touched. It wasn't that I didn't like being close to people, or that I didn't want to be hugged or held or to have someone pat my shoulder or something, but…I don't know. It seemed like more of a physical response than a mental one. I just…shied away from being touched. 

Wanting to avoid another scene (and another lump, for that matter), I stuck my hand out to the side, palm outward, and thus made it pretty impossible for him to get any closer. From the look of confusion that flickered onto his face, I guessed he didn't understand…but, that was okay. I doubted Stephanie did either, even after she'd seen a pretty damn good example of the Ryuuen Doesn't Like To Be Touched doctrine in action a few months ago, when we first met.

"I-I'm fine," I managed. Hand still out, I pushed myself into a better standing position, then carefully brought in the hand and touched again at my head. "Sorry, I…I guess I overreacted."

Doug frowned—and, I couldn't help but think that he looked a lot like a beach bum in guard's clothing—and put his hands sternly on his hips. "Just a _little, Ryuuen! You really ought to be more careful."_

Stephanie, meanwhile, was staring at me with wide eyes, all traces of her usual bubbliness vanished as if it'd never been there at all. The fuzzy glove still hung limply from beneath her arm. "Ryuuen, are you all right?" she asked in a low, tense voice. "You hit that door hard enough to fracture something. You're not experiencing any dizziness, are you?"

Doug and I both blinked, turned to stare at her…and Stephanie went absolutely white. "I-I…I mean…" And, then, _zzzzap, the bubbles sprang back into her face, and she cocked her head to the side and squeaked, "I mean, like, __God, Ree-yuuen, don't be such a spazz or you're gonna crack your head open!"_

I frowned. _Must've hit that door harder than I thought… "I'm okay," I said slowly, still frowning at Stephanie. And, then, forcing a slight smile: "I've had worse."_

Doug gave me a really patronizing isn't-she-brave look, then shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. With the five o'clock shadow and the curly blond hair and the tanned freckles, it was hard not to picture him with a surfboard and two sand-covered bare feet… "Well," he rumbled. "Like I said, you really should be more careful. And, not just here, but everywhere." His eyes narrowed, and he actually wagged his finger at me. "I've seen you coming into the hall late at night, _Miss __Chou. Walking alone down Forbes Avenue late at night is never a good idea for anyone, least of all a pretty Freshman like yourself. You really shouldn't go without an escort after it gets dark."  
  
Stephanie made a little sound beside me, and I turned just in time to see her launch into a fit of coughing that I suspected was hiding a very unladylike snort. _

I raised an eyebrow and turned back to Doug. "Thanks," I said. "I'll keep that in mind. But, anyway, we really have to get to class…"

"Yeah!" Stephanie chimed. "We're reaaaaaally running late, and our prof's a real bitch when we don't get there on time, soooooo, see ya, Doug!"

And, then, she'd grabbed onto my arm and was dragging me towards the door, and all I could do was follow. I was still feeling a little shaky, and my head was starting to throb, but at least the floor was staying where it was supposed to, which was a welcome change from my first concussion, at least. I'd been about twelve, and I still remembered how weird it'd been, trying to walk with the ground rocking up and down like a ship on rough seas, or something. The "seasickness" that'd followed hadn't been a big surprise, either.

But, as luck would have it, I didn't seem to have a concussion this time…which was good, because it was Friday, and damn it, even if I had no semblance of a social life, I _liked Fridays. Sometimes I would just go outside and walk around on Friday nights, watch the floods of girls and boys laughing and smoking and drinking. The girls always wore slinky tank tops or skirts hiked up to their thighs, and since it hadn't been above sixty degrees since September, they usually walked from one place to another with their arms crossed over their chests and their teeth chattering and sometimes maybe a boy's arm around their shoulders for warmth. I was kind of fascinated by them, so normal and so beautiful and so vain to be outside in skimpy outfits in the winter time, but it was a bittersweet kind of fascination. Maybe the fascination of a peasant who looks at the king's palace with that longing in his heart, and for a minute, he thinks, __Well, what if? What if things had been different? _

But, hey, even peasants can't hide in their dreams for too long.

We stepped out onto the sidewalk of Forbes Avenue, were nearly broadsided by a pack of Burger King employees walking _really quickly, and then finally settled into a walk and started off for class. Stephanie had let go of my sleeve as soon as we were safely outdoors, and so I was able to shove both hands in my pockets, fend off the frigid weather a little more easily. I really didn't like Pennsylvania winters at all¾ I'd always been a creature of the summer. I mean, not that I went swimming or ran around in tanktops or even really ventured outside all that much when it was warm…but, I was so much happier in the summer, I really was. Maybe it was the sunshine, or the fact that the trees didn't look so naked and dead, anymore…_

"We should probably walk a little faster," Stephanie said, her voice breaking into my thoughts. "Bitch or not, Dr. Ernst won't be too happy if we walk in late."

I nodded, drew in a deep breath of the freezing air, and let it out through my nostrils. "Yeah, let's go." 

We'd just crossed over Forbes, nearly getting run over by some guy on a bicycle who apparently was too busy peering into the windows at Burger King to be watching the road, and were heading across the quad to Posvar when I heard his voice. It stopped me dead in my tracks, and something colder than the weather lanced into my veins. 

"Hello," he said politely.

_Oh, great…_

  
I looked up at him, fingers tugging nervously at my scarf, and somehow forced my lips into a smile. "S-Saihitei," I managed. He was standing there looking just as prosperous as ever, dressed in a slimming black suit jacket and a collared blue shirt; his hands were tucked neatly into the pockets of his slacks, and despite the fact that I knew he must be freezing with that thin black coat on, he certainly looked…good. Commanding myself _not to blush, I let the smile soften a bit. "Are you on your way to class?"_

He gave a small shrug, opened his mouth to speak—

—and was cut off by Stephanie's enthusiastic, "Hel_lo, and who are __you?"_

Despite myself, I blushed. "Erm, Stephanie, this is Saihitei."

Saihitei blinked at her, looking vaguely frightened for a moment…and, then, he smiled and offered a hand. "Ehh…Saihitei Seishuku. Pleasure to meet you. You are…?"

"Hi!" Steph said brightly, clasping onto his hand like she never planned to let go. "I'm Stephanie Miller, but most people just call me Steph. Whadda people call you for short? 'Cause you suuuuure need something short. Yikes. What a name." 

Saihitei gave an uncomfortable smile and peeled his fingers from hers. "Just…Saihitei. People get used to it." And, then, suddenly, his eyes were on _me. "Ryuuen. I, ahhh…wanted to ask you something—do you have the time?"_

_The time? He flags me down on my way to class and endures an introduction to Steph just to ask me what freakin' time it is? What the…? _

"The, uh…the time?" I managed. 

He nodded. "For me to ask you something?"

Mental head-smack. "Ohhhhhh! I thought you meant the _time the time." I lifted my watch, as if that would clear things __riiiight up. "Ehehe, sorry. Um…yeah, I guess I have the time."_

He moved a little closer to me, which didn't exactly leave me feeling _uncomfortable so much as really unsure and uncertain and confused. "I, ahh…would you pleae meet with me tonight?" he asked after a measured pause, his face only about six inches away from my own. "About the Creative Writing assignment? I've been looking things over, and I could really use your help…"_

My eyes went wide. "Meet…meet with you…tonight?"

"No, she can't!" Steph squealed suddenly. And, before I could move out the way, she'd slid her arm around my shoulders and was resting the top of her head against my cheek. "She's going with me to a frat party tonight—I was just telling her about it! Honestly, I've spent the last fiiiiive months trying to get this girl to be social, and she's not going to get out of it this time!"

The _look that touched Saihitei's face at that left me feeling breathless. "Ah," he said quietly. "Well…ah…tomorrow, then?"_

_Why does he look so disappointed? It…it just doesn't make sense! If he's gay, he shouldn't be interested in me! If he's not gay, then he has a girlfriend, and he shouldn't be interested in me! So, why does he look like I just dumped him or something??_

_Goddddddd, men suck._

"Sure," I offered helplessly; Steph's arm was still a weight against my shoulders. "Tomorrow…"

"Well." Saihitei smiled, then, taking a short step backwards from me and sliding his hands back into his pockets. "I'll talk to you later, then, Ryuuen. I wouldn't want you to be late to class on my account."

And, before I could say anything else or even begin to find the words to apologize for the hurt I'd somehow caused this man, he'd turned and was walking forlornly away. 

"Good, um…goodbye," I called belatedly. He must've heard me, though, because he lifted his right hand in farewell…and, then, he stepped out onto the sidewalk by Forbes Avenue, and vanished around the corner. 

_~*~Saihitei~*~_

Well, I certainly couldn't begrudge her her social life. Ryuuen seemed like the kind of girl who would need to get out once in a while, though she had looked less than happy at her friend's announcement concerning the party.

I could wait until the next day. I could be patient. Patience was one of my best virtues.

One of the hardest things I have ever done was to turn and walk away that day. Given a second chance, would I have stayed, pleaded, insisted that she meet with me? It is certainly what I desired. To deal with something like this alone was eating me alive; if only I could run back to her, class or no class, plans or no plans, and beg her to listen…

But my self-control had always been stronger than that. It was how I'd survived this long. So I kept my eyes focused on the street in front of me, and let my worries slide into the darkness.


	3. Chapter One, Part III

WRITTEN IN THE STARS

(by Purple Mouse & Ryuen)

Chapter One: Part Three

~*~Ryuuen~*~

We'd been at the frat house for about two minutes, and already I was ready to leave.

Steph had vanished with two painfully-macho football player types almost immediately after we walked in the door, and even though I was fairly certain that Steph wasn't as…untamed…as some of the other scantily-clad girls here, I was also pretty sure that the bottle in her hand hadn't been root beer. And, so, rather than give in to the flood of idiots offering to get me a drink, I pulled my coat tight around my body, lifted my eyes from the floor, and went off in search of a bathroom or something to hide in until Steph had drunk enough to be suggestible. Then, it would be, "Hey, Steph, let's go back!" and this night could end properly, with me alone and in my own bed thinking about what a freak I was. I gave a firm inner nod, and continued on my way.

I'd never been inside a frat house before, but I'd had some weird notion that it would either be really ritzy, like some kind of a hotel planted into the center of the campus, or else that it would be like that hovel from Animal House, and filled with much the same kinds of idiots and losers.

Well, you're right on the idiots and losers front. 

The house itself, though, was fairly nice—warm colors, a cozy fire, lots of colorfully-shaded lamps; and, even though I couldn't see much of it through the sea of people, the furniture looked like it might be a comfortable place to spend a few hours. As matter of fact, if it hadn't been for the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke and sweat, not to mention the rowdy drunk people trying to swallow each other's faces…well, I might've possibly been able to stand being there. As it was, though, I would much rather have spent the night outside on the curb, watching the cars go by—but, since I was pretty sure that I would freeze to death before Steph was ready to leave, that didn't seem like such a good idea.

I considered, as I climbed the carpeted staircase in search of the bathroom, just walking out the front door and _leaving_. I mean, nothing was holding me here, and I sure as hell wasn't planning on having a good time…so, why not just leave? Steph was an adult; she could take care of herself, right?

But…

I sighed. But, no. Steph was my friend, and even if I was definitely going to _make her pay_ for having put me in this position, I owed it to her to stick around, make sure she made it home all right. I mean, I didn't _know_ these guys. What if those two she was with were only trying to get her drunk so they could take advantage of her? What if the only thing on their minds was getting her into bed so they could brag to their friends and add another notch to the frat bed post?

Now, you're just being silly. That's what ALL college guys are trying for. The only difference here is that you're…slightly outnumbered by said guys. 

I sighed again. Life was so difficult, and men sucked _so_ much… And—I cinched the coat closer to my body—I really wished they would stop brushing against me as I walked by. Okay, I could understand that it was crowded in here, and that being drunk added a certain amount of…uncertainty to a person's steps, but this was getting ridiculous! I'd passed at least seven guys on my way to the stairs, up the stairs, and into the hall, and every single one of them had managed to rub their disgusting sweaty selves against me as I passed.

Urgh. 

I hate men. I hate men I hate men I hate men. 

And, then, not two seconds later:

I wish Saihitei were here.

Sigh. _You're hopeless._

When I got to the bathroom, I found it not only occupied, but with a line. Eight or nine girls, all of them dressed in varying degrees of sluttiness, were leaning against the wall just before the bathroom door, tapping their high heels or dabbing at their lipstick or sipping from their drinks. A few of them looked a little wobbly, and one actually offered me a fairly kind, pleasant smile as I passed, but at least two of them gave me that really irritating, _Omigod, why're you, like, wearing so many clothes?_ eyebrow raise when I walked by. And, despite myself, I was annoyed and embarrassed. 

Well, what's separating you from them, anyway? If you had what they had, who's to say you wouldn't be acting the exact same way?

Whatever the case, the coat did kind of make me stick out, and it was _really_ suffocatingly warm in here, so… 

Since the hallway was shaped like a U, I didn't have to pass the Bathroom Bunch again, but as I made my way back towards the stairs, I pulled my arms out of my coat sleeves, then shrugged the rest of it off and held it, instead. Of course, I still didn't fit in at _all_ with these girls—even Steph had come here wearing a tiny pink midrift shirt and black hip huggers. Meanwhile, here I was with my slightly-baggy jeans and my faded Keds. The shirt I had on was slightly less conservative, being one of those stretchy brown collared shirts that fit pretty snugly—but, of course, being far from suicidal, I had a shirt on over top of it, a big white dress shirt that I'd buttoned almost the whole way up, so only a little bit of the other one was visible. 

The really obnoxious thing, though, was that almost all the guys I walked by on my way back downstairs were eying me like I was some forbidden prize or something. Ooh, look, it's a virgin! We must seduce her and teach her our dirty, filthy ways. I sighed, wrapping my arms a little more tightly around my coat and ignoring the nasty glares many of these guys' female companions were giving me. 

I gotta get outta this plaaaace…I gotta get outta this plaaace…

Luckily, I managed to find an empty couch downstairs and plant myself onto it. There was a TV there, and even though some drunk guy was sitting there flipping mindlessly through the channels, at least it was something to focus on. A few minutes later, a guy and a girl flopped down onto the couch beside me and started, um, getting to know one another, but luckily the TV was in the other direction and so I was able to _mostly_ ignore them. 

~*~ Saihitei~*~

I sat alone in my apartment in the dark, staring out the window that looked out onto the town. Next door, someone was playinghouse music fairly loudly; normally, I would have found this decidedly frustrating. But now, I barely noticed. My thoughts were deafening, drowning everything else out. 

It was silly, really. It was only a day I had to wait, only one day until I could finally speak with Ryuuen, ask her if she felt what I felt. But it gnawed at me, nagged at my chest…and before I realized it, my foot had begun tapping frantically on the carpet beneath me. A nervous action.

I…don't GET nervous. What on earth is the matter with me?

I had been sitting there for God knows how long…hours, maybe. I glanced down at my watch.

11:30.

Damn.

Forcing the obnoxious shaking in my leg to stop, I sighed, wrapped an arm around my chest, and flipped on the television. 'Dogma' was playing on HBO, and I tried to focus on the movie, hoping that the humor would serve to relieve me of my worries. 

Everything went swimmingly until Bethany discovered that she was The Last Scion. 

What if I have to save the world, just like her? What if I'm the Last Scion? What if time is running out? What am I waiting for??

This could be important. Something dreadful could be happening right now, and I'm sitting here doing nothing. I'm supposed to gather the Seven Stars of Suzaku, and I can't even get one of them, because she's going to a PARTY. Perspective. Let's keep things in perspective. Save the World vs. Frat Party. 

I have to go to her. I have to go to her NOW.

My heart grew thick with the call of duty, urging me forward with not-so-subtle tugs. When I finally stopped thinking and returned to the present, I was startled to realize that I had actually progressed to the door, hand reaching for my jacket on the rack. 

Wait a moment. 

What am I doing?? This isn't logical! Why am I so wrapped up in this? What if it's not even REAL??

But a voice inside me told me firmly that it was real. And I grabbed my jacket and left.

~*~Ryuuen~*~

Three painful hours and sixty-three _No, thank you, I don't want a drink_'s later, I felt a small hand on my shoulder, and turned around to see—my heart leapt with hope—Steph. She was looking pretty tipsy and a little the worse for wear; there was an alcohol-scented stain on the front of her shirt, her lipstick was smudged and circling her mouth like clown make-up, and her arms were wrapped weakly around her stomach.

"I-I don'feelsagood, Ryuuen," she slurred. 

Thaaaaank you, God.

I got to my feet fairly quickly, realizing as I moved that several parts of my body had fallen asleep during my stay on the couch, and moved to her side. "Come on," I said, "let's get you back home." And, because I was in such a hurry to leave, I opted to ignore my usual _don't touch_ doctrine and put my arm around her shoulders—it was easier to guide her to the door that way, at least, and a hell of a lot easier to keep her upright and moving. 

I was just reaching forward to grab onto the door knob and step out into freedom when Steph said, "Wait a sec."

Frowning, I turned back to face her…and saw the two football player guys sprinting towards us through the sea of bodies, waving their arms and calling, "Steph! Steph, wait! Wait!"

I sighed. _Grrrrrreat._

The guys skidded to a halt in front of us. As soon as they spoke, it was pretty obvious from their breath that they'd been drinking, but they seemed to be holding up pretty well—their speech was clear, their eyes didn't look too foggy, and they didn't seem to be having the wavery-legs problem that Steph herself was having. Almost protectively, I readjusted my grip on my friend's shoulders, and narrowed my eyes. 

"Steph!" one of them said. His face was squat and mildly-attractive, but kind of smooshed, like he was pressing it up against a piece of glass or something. "What're ya doin'? You're not leaving, are ya?"

"Yeaaaaah!" cried the other, who was clearly a reject for the role of Dawson on that irritating Creek show. He stuck out his lower lip, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Not that I didn't eventually roll them anyway…but, it's the thought that counts. "We'll miss you if you leaaave, Stephie Weffie."

I cleared my throat. "Steph isn't feeling well, so I'm going to take her home. I'm sure she'll talk to you tomorrow."

I turned to leave, but—

"You're _not_ gonna walk home all by yourselves!" Dawson squeaked. "It's almost midnight!"  
  
Smooshed Face Guy gave a firm nod. "Dave's right. We'll walk you back. It's getting late, and do you have any idea how many weirdos and freaks there are walking around out there this time of night?"

I considered, for a moment, asking him to tell me just precisely how many weirdos and freaks there were walking around out there…but as I was very quickly getting tired of this conversation, I nodded instead. "Fine," I said. "Walk us back."

Hey, I mean, they could be right. Two girls, all alone, one of them drunk and the other one a Virgin In Need of Seducing… We're a freaks and weirdos magnet. 

Adding that to the fact that I wasn't entirely sure how to get back to Forbes from here, it seemed smarter to let the Dave and Smooshface walk us back. 

~*~

"Ahhhh, Ryuuuuuuen, I forgot my coat!" 

I looked at her with something very akin to horror. We'd only been walking for about six or seven minutes, Dave and Smooshface—whose name, I'd learned, was Pete—leading the way, while Steph and I trotted along behind them. But, still. Still. I was _not_ going back there. We'd just escaped, and I had a sinking feeling that if we took even one step back into that frat house, then Steph was going to be miraculously cured and I was going to be spending the next five hours on that couch. 

I considered suggesting that she just go without a coat for the rest of the walk back, but truthfully, I wasn't sure how far it was, and it _was_ really cold… Finally, I gave a short little sigh, pulled my own coat off, and handed it to her. "Here," I said. "Put this on. We can go back and get your coat tomorrow."

Or, YOU can go back and get your coat tomorrow, and I can stay in my room and lock the door.

Her lower lip started to waver. "Awwww, Ryuuen… Y'err sush a goofriend!"

I nodded, rolling my eyes, and folded my arms over my chest. It really _was_ cold out here, maybe only thirty degrees or so, and even though I had on two layers of clothing, they were pretty _thin_ layers…

"Hey," I called. The guys had been talking, speaking in voices too low for me to hear; at the sound of my voice, they both stiffened and turned around. "How long is this gonna take?"

Pete shrugged his big shoulders. "If we go the normal way, maybe another ten minutes."

"But, hey, man," Dave cut in. "We could take the _shortcut_."

"Riiiiight, the _shortcut._" Pete gave his friend a smooshed little grin. "We'd sure _get there_ a lot faster if we took theshortcut_._"

I don't know what I was thinking, I really don't. But, I was cold, Steph was murmuring something about thinking she was going to throw up, and I was starting to _really_ wish that we'd just walked back alone. I should've known that something was up, though. I should've heard it in their voices, or seen it in their eyes, or…or something. But, I didn't. All I knew was that I wanted to get home, and a shortcut would get me there faster.

"Fine," I said. "Let's take the shortcut, then."

The guys gave a little laugh, nodded, and led us across the street. A few minutes later, we turned into an alley and, being very preoccupied with keeping Steph from losing her balance and falling onto her butt, I followed. By the time I realized that it was a dark empty alley that dead-ended about ten feet in front of us, Dave and Pete had circled around behind us, and there was no turning back.

~*~Saihitei~*~

As I headed down the street that Ryuuen's dormitory was on, I was suddenly stricken by a great sense of urgency. I couldn't explain it. I didn't know where it had come from. All I knew was, I had to go quicker…I had to get to the dormitory, or else… 

Or else what??!

Or else…

I honestly did not know. Nonetheless, I started to run…

~*~Ryuuen~*~

Steph's voice was small. "Hey…why'rrrwe stopping?"

I didn't think. I grabbed onto Steph's shoulders and pushed her behind me. She clung to the back of my shirt, wobbling a little, and I stretched my arms back to steady her.   
  
"This isn't the way back," I said evenly.

Maybe it's just a mistake. Or a joke. Maybe it's a joke.

Dave and Pete were standing there in front of us, blocking our only way out, and I was suddenly aware of just how _big_ they were, just how broad their shoulders and how thick their muscles and how…how scared I was as they started lumbering towards us. They didn't say anything, and I think that was worse than if they'd been standing there detailing just what they were planning to do to us, because…because, it made me feel so much more out of control. They weren't speaking, weren't even showing that they'd heard me. It was like they didn't even see me, or like they weren't entirely human, like they were just mindless drones who couldn't be reasoned with or persuaded or…

I swallowed hard, realizing just what deep shit we were in with surprising calmness.

Okay. Okay, okay, think. There's gotta be a way out of this; there's gotta be. Just…just keep talking—maybe they'll listen.

"Hey," I said a little shakily, pushing Steph and I both backwards as they advanced. "Hey, guys. Guys. You don't wanna do this, huh? I mean…if we start screaming, someone's going to come."  
  
Dave's eyes were cold. "No, they won't."  
  
_Well, at least he's talking._

"Look," said Pete, holding his arms out to the sides in what I guessed was supposed to be a non-threatening gesture, "this doesn't have to be a bad thing, does it? I mean…we're nice guys. We won't hurt you."  
  
Pete smiled slightly. "Unless you make us."

Great. Great great great.

I could hear that Steph was starting to panic behind me, her breath coming in quick, weepy little gasps. "Wh-what're you gonna do to us?" she asked. She was still slurring a little, but she sounded more scared than drunk. 

"Hey," Pete continued in the same low, struggling-to-be-soothing voice, "just relax. Just relax, and…and let happen whatever happens. It's not gonna be bad, I promise."

I glanced behind us, saw that we were quickly running out of alley—and each step was taking us farther and farther away from the lights of the street. Left with very few options, I came to a stop where I was, made sure Steph had stopped behind me…and, then, I let go of her, shrugged out of the grasp she had on my shirt, and took a long, difficult step forward.

I was sure my teeth would chatter when I spoke, give away just how amazingly afraid I was…but, somehow, my voice was firm. "Look," I said loudly. "This's been fun, but we really need to get home, now. We called before we left, and my roommate's waiting for us. If we don't get back soon, she and the RA are gonna come look for us."

And, suddenly, Dave was right there in front of me and his hands were on my shoulders and he was…he was kissing me. He tasted like alcohol and sweat and even though I squirmed, he held his lips firmly against mine for another second before he let go. "Don't worry," he said, pulling back from me with a wide, vile grin. "It won't take long."

Pete was moving around us, moving towards Steph—God, he'd be there in a second, in just a second he was going to grab her and throw her down and and…and…

Something inside of me snapped. Angry and scared and disgusted, I ripped out of Dave's grasp, and despite the fact that he had a pretty good grip on me, I managed to get away. His right hand didn't lose its grip on my shirt, though, and the force of the movement sent all the buttons popping off—I barely managed to twist my arms out of the sleeves before he pulled it towards him, clutched it to his chest. 

"Settle 'er down!" Pete called from behind me. Beneath his voice, I could hear the sound of rustling clothing and Steph's whimpering sobs. 

And, then, Dave was coming towards me, and before I knew what he was doing, he'd pulled back a fist and lurched it forwards. My cheek exploded with pain, and I went tumbling backwards. A second later, I landed hard on the pavement, still sitting but so stunned with pain and the fact that he'd actually _hit me_ that I couldn't move. And, as he was coming towards me, again, I noticed with some horror that the button of his jeans was undone, that _that_ was what they planned to do with us…that these guys were the freaks and weirdos they'd warned us to look out for, and I knew suddenly that in a few minutes Dave was going to touch me and know that I was missing some very important things, and then there'd be no talking sense into him because he'd either beat me or kill me or… 

The thought trailed off, and I shuddered. If I didn't do something _right now_, I was as good as dead. If I didn't do something right…now… Desperate to give myself at least another moment to think, I skidded backwards until my shoulders hit into the wall. My hand was pressed to my cheek, and my head was still spinning with the impact of the blow, making everything wobbly and hazy and dreamlike. 

Just as Dave reached me, though, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and a moment later, Pete was standing beside him, looking…angry? 

"What the hell is wrong with you, man? What'd ya hit'er for?"

Dave turned back to his friend, opened his mouth to reply—and, in that instant, I sprang into action. 

In less than a second, I'd leaped to my feet and thrown myself at them, screaming for Steph to run even as I moved. I couldn't tell at first whether she was aware enough to follow my instructions, but it didn't seem to matter, because Pete and Dave had gotten over their shock at my attack and were fighting back. I'd scratched my nails across Dave's face and shoved Pete onto the ground, but now they were both coming at me with their arms held out and anger in their eyes and I was so sure that I was dead that it didn't seem to matter what I did next, so I leaped at them again and started punching.

Before I could hit either of them, though, Dave had dropped beneath my fists and grabbed me roughly around the waist with both hands. He pushed me backwards until I slammed hard against the wall, and I had to stop punching then because the breath had been completely knocked out of my lungs. It was in that moment, as I stood there pinned to the wall and wheezing for breath and feeling my cheek starting to swell, that I heard the sound of high heels clacking against pavement far away, and I knew, then, that Steph had gotten away…Steph had gotten away!

The happy thought didn't last long, though. 

Dave's face was suddenly right in front of mine, his eyes large and enraged, streaks of pink running down the side of his face where I'd scratched him. He was breathing hard, and even though I knew that I had to move out of the way or he was going to find out about everything and I was going to be dead, I couldn't move. "That was stupid," he hissed; a warm, sickening wash of alcohol breath swept into my face as he spoke. "That was…really stupid. But, that's okay. That's okay. I shouldn't've hit ya. And, I won't do it again if you just…just stay still. Just stay still and it'll be over before you know it."

~*~Saihitei~*~

I was almost there…almost there…I could see the lights of her building before me, I could see… 

"Aack!!" whimpered a voice, and something collided heavily with me. 

Startled, I stood there stupidly for a while; the thing in my arms was panting harshly, sounding as if it were close to hyperventilating. Grasping its shoulders—it _had _shoulders; therefore, A Person—I held on gently, pushing it away so I could see exactly who had hit me.

"Are you all right? What's…"

My voice trailed off into nothingness as I found myself faced with a familiar pair of eyes, large and bright with fear. It was Ryuuen's friend, the one she had been supposed to go out with that night. But she was no longer the cool, collected young woman I had met earlier. Something had frightened her, and she kept trying to look over her shoulder, frantic, as if searching for pursuers.

"S…Stephanie?" That was her name. I could swear that was her name. "Stephanie, what happened? Are you all right?"

She's wearing Ryuuen's jacket. She's wearing Ryuuen's jacket.

Stephanie's eyes locked onto mine tensely, then relaxed a bit in recognition. "S-Sunday!!"

"Saihitei," I corrected, trying not to wince, trying not to let the fact that the girl _was _wearing Ryuuen's jacket bother me. She'd probably borrowed it, or something. Girls did that all the time. Exchanged clothing for…for the purpose of variety, I suppose. "What's…"

"They've got Ryuuen," she panted before I could finish. "They've got her…in…the alley… Please…"

A lance of icy dread shot through me, and I moved my gaze slowly up to the entrance to the nearby alley. _Who?? Who has Ryuuen? Is she hurt? What's happened to her? That's what I felt; that's why I felt this urgent pulling…_

"Stay here, Stephanie," I instructed the shivering girl, not tearing my eyes away from the little sidestreet. "Stay here, you understand? I'll come back for you." And I let her go and hurried to the darkened area, only vaguely aware that the girl had fled right after I'd released her, and only partially caring.

~*~Ryuuen~*~

A low, frightened moan slipped from my lips as his hands lifted from my waist. 

Run. Run, right now. He's not touching you at all. You could hit him and run and get away! 

But…but, I couldn't. I could only stand there, leaning weakly against the wall with the tears swimming in my eyes, and watch as his hand went to the collar of my shirt and started to tug at it. The fabric ripped easily beneath his grasp, tearing a jagged line down the center of my chest, exposing a slim strip of flesh to the air. I began to shake. My fists clenched at my sides, and despite the fact that I wanted to close my eyes, I couldn't. I felt frozen and lifeless and wasn't even sure if I was still breathing.

And, then, Dave's hand jerked quickly to the side, ripping a great flapping hole in the material…and everything stopped.

Dave's eyes were wide and shocked, his hand away from me and hanging limply at his side. He stumbled back a step or two, breathing hard—his mouth was opening and closing, but no words were coming out, just a high, choked whining sound that only drove the fear more deeply into me. 

"Wha…wha…what the…what the _fuck_?" he squeaked. "What the…you're a…she's a…what the _fuck_? And…and, what the hell is _that?_"

My legs gave out beneath me, and I sank to the ground. I was only vaguely aware of the strange flood of red light coming from my chest; weird as it was, it seemed like nothing more than a minor oddity in the face of everything else that had happened. Besides, I was having trouble focusing on much of anything but the smooth, flat portion of chest that was glaring out from beneath the ripped fabric. 

It's over. They saw me. They saw me, and…and this time, no one's gonna stop it. 

This time…I'm going to die, aren't I?

It was only then that I heard the slow, purposeful footsteps coming from the mouth of the alley; only then that I saw him standing there, the moonlight smoothing his features and casting a cool light onto his skin. 

My lips formed around his name, but I couldn't draw the breath to speak it. 

~*~Saihitei~*~

I saw the soft red light coming from the alley before I could see anything else. A familiar red light. And as I approached, hurried by the girl's words, I stumbled to a halt.

There, on the dirty, alcohol-stained pavement, cornered by two men nearly twice her size, was Ryuuen.

She was glowing from her chest. Glowing…like me. I didn't need the sudden warmth on my neck to tell me that my Sei symbol had started shining with all its might. This time, the red light was not limited to one area of my body. My entire vision was clouded with it; it surrounded me like a clinging crimson fog, swirling like flames of air.

She has a symbol. I was right; she has a symbol! 

She…

But…something was strange. 

Her two attackers had not turned to face me. They were entirely focused on their poor victim, but for some reason, they just _stood _there, making no move at all. I took an angry step forward, pushed by the depth of the fear in Ryuuen's eyes, visible even from a distance…but stopped short.

Her shirt. They've torn her shirt. 

Every chivalrous bone inside me swelled with rage. They had taken this woman, this _girl_…struck her, abused her, and torn at her, exposing her innocent maidenhood to their cruel, mocking eyes, to the cold, biting wind!…

Except…

Ryuuen…_had _no innocent maidenhood.

Her shirt had torn, to reveal…only flatness. A smooth, white expanse of chest. 

Something clicked within me, forcing me to abandon my confusion in the face of something much more important. Clenching my fists, I charged at the instigators, as Ryuuen looked on with shame and terror in his eyes.

~*~Ryuuen~*~

No. 

No…please.

No. No no no, please, don't look at me don't look at me don't look at me!

It was too late, but I brought my right arm up to my chest, struggled to push the torn fabric back into place, to repair all that had been torn by covering up the evidence. It didn't work, though, of course. They'd…they'd seen me, and I'd seen the shock in their eyes, the hate and the disgust and the…the loathing. It was all I could do not to stand up and scream at them, tell them that I knew; I understood that I was freakish and ugly and disgusting, that I didn't deserve to be seen or loved or maybe even to live, and I'd known it all along, ever since I'd watched my mother's gaze trickle down past my waist and seen that same look in _her_ eyes, that disgusted curl to her lip and that frowning line between her eyebrows…

Don't look at me. Beat me, kill me, I don't care…just don't look at me.

And, then, suddenly, Saihitei had lunged forward from where he stood at the mouth of the alley, and it was then that I noticed that we…matched. The weird, glowing mark on my chest; it wasn't the only thing casting light into the darkness of the alley--Saihitei…he had one, too. It burned from his neck like a torch, fiery and blinding, and was it just because of the tears swimming in my eyes, or was there…a haze around him? It was a thick, blazing crimson fog that seemed like it was radiating from his body, springing up off his skin and circling around his fingers and…and, reaching. Reaching for…me? 

Suddenly understanding, I sprang to my feet, drew my hands away from my chest, and dropped almost unconsciously into a fighting stance. Something was burning inside of me, fueling me onward--despite the fact that my emotions were reeling and I wanted very much to curl up in the corner and die, somehow, I felt strong; powerful. I felt like all I had to do was pull back my fist and let it fly…and, these guys who towered above even Saihitei would fall back, run away, leave me alone with my torn shirt and my torn soul to cry.

So, I…I did it. I sprang forward, grasped onto the back of the Dave's flannel shirt, and ripped him away from Saihitei. Then, just as his lips were forming around what I was pretty sure was a nasty word, I tugged back my elbow, clenched my fist…and slammed it into his jaw.

Impossibly,Dave soared backwards. An instant later, he slammed into the back wall of CVS with a sickening _crunch_, and I felt a chill shudder run through my body. He seemed to be all right, groaning and clutching at his ribs and staggering to his feet, but…

  
_I could've killed him. I really…really…could've killed him. _

Stunned and feeling breathless all of a sudden, I stared down at my fist. The knuckles were raw and red, and I could feel my palm burning from the wounds my fingernails had carved in them…but, good God! I-I'd hit him…and, if I hadn't held back at the last second, if I hadn't hesitated like that and not used all my strength…then, I probably would've killed him. 

I couldn't take it anymore. I stumbled backwards, waited until my back hit into something solid, and then sank again to the ground. I knew I should be helping Saihitei, or going to see if Steph was all right, or at least doing _something_…but, it was over. I knew it. The strength was bleeding out of my body, even as the symbol faded from my chest, and all of a sudden, it felt like my muscles were jelly. I slumped onto my side on the ground, closed my eyes, and lay still. 

I was awake…but, I couldn't move. I could only lie there, limp and lifeless, and breathe. 

~*~Saihitei~*~

He was fighting back. Despite the panic that was plain as day on his face, he was fighting back.

And…_well_.

As I'd tried to fend off one of the louts, I'd kept one eye on the other, had seen him flung like a doll across the narrow space. After he'd regained his footing, it was as if time had stopped; my own fighting partner had fallen limp at the sight of his companion's flight, which worked very well to my benefit, as I myself was stricken into immobility. Luckily, too, I was the first one to regain my footing afterward. 

Shoving my combatant toward the street, I moved quickly to stand between them and Ryuuen, who had slumped against the wall. "Leave," I growled, drawing myself up to look more menacing. Not that the red light that still insisted on surrounding me entirely wasn't menacing enough. 

And they left.

Even as I heaved a sigh of relief, I felt the fire ebb from my body. After a moment of staring in the direction of the street, making certain that the two would not return, I turned my attention to Ryuuen.

He was lying on the ground, and it looked like he might have been unconscious; given the darkening bruise on his cheek, this did not bode well. I immediately sank to my knees at his side, hands hovering just above him, not _exactly _certain what to do in such a…delicate situation. First and foremost, I decided to give him my jacket, to hide his body. I didn't know the story behind his…well…his being a him, but it didn't take a psychoanalyst to know that having his true gender displayed like that would probably not serve to calm him when he awoke. So I laid my coat over him, tucking it under him, trying not to ask the obvious, prying questions that were coursing through my mind.

"Ryuuen," I called softly, after he was safely hidden, putting my hand to his face. "Ryuuen? Wake up…"

~*~Ryuuen~*~

I'm awake. I'm awake, but…but, I don't want to be.

I wanted him to go away. I wanted him to turn away, leave me alone, forget that any of this terrible night had ever happened and go back to his home so I could go back to mine. Steph was out there somewhere, too, drunk and probably throwing up all over my coat, and even though Dave and Pete had left, that didn't mean they weren't going to go after her…and, then, what? She couldn't fight them off on one of her best days, let alone tipsy and cold and scared. I had to…I had to find her, make sure she was all right. Even if it was her fault I'd gotten into this mess and her fault that everything I was was falling apart at the seams…she was still my friend, and I owed it to her to make sure that she was all right.

  
And, so, even though it still hurt, even though I was dreading looking up into those beautiful amber eyes and seeing the disgust and the hatred in them…it was time to get up. Even if all I wanted to do was lie here in the freezing darkness forever and never have to move again…it was time to get up.

Face pinching in anguish, I drew in a deep breath, rolled gently onto my back, and opened my eyes. 

~*~Saihitei~*~

Such beautiful eyes.

As he blinked up at me, brow creased in worry, I did my best to appear reassuring, greeting him with a gentle smile. "Ryuuen…it's me, Saihitei," I said. "Are you all right? You fainted."

But WHY? Why did he pretend to be…and how? It must have been so difficult, gods, it must have been hell for him, trying to hide it… How did they even accept him as a woman? What if I'm mistaken? What if she's just flat-chested? How embarrassing that would be…

~*~Ryuuen~*~

I resisted, just barely, the urge to close my eyes again, blot out the world and those…those eyes. Instead, I got my hands beneath me and pushed myself into a sitting position. The movement jarred the coat Saihitei had draped over me 

(can't even stand to look at me, has to cover me with a coat)

and it fluttered down to my waist. For a moment, I stared at it in horror, feeling a chill breeze sweeping over the exposed flesh of my chest, and then I grabbed at the fabric and clutched it back into place. The damage had already been done, but I didn't have to keep drilling it into him, did I? I didn't close my eyes, but I turned my face away from him, turned my eyes to the wall and tried to force back the tears. "Th-Thanks for your help," I managed. My voice was little more than a harsh, hoarse whisper. "I'm okay, now."

Please, go away. Go away go away go away.

*~Saihitei~*~

All doubt as to the truth of what my eyes had seen with regard to Ryuuen's…pectoral area…was now permanently erased. I could tell he was horrified, _terribly _ashamed that I should know his secret; but what was I supposed to do? I couldn't leave him alone like this, emotionally and physically fragile. He sounded like he was about to start crying, and what kind of man would I be, to leave him alone with his grief?

The best thing I could do, I thought, was to pretend that nothing had changed.

Wrapping an arm around his thin shoulders, I slid the other one beneath his knees, lifting him with no difficulty at all. He let out a choking gasp, grabbing my coat even more tightly, eyes widening. 

"Come on," I said softly, soothing. "I'm taking you home."

---


	4. Chapter Two, Part I

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Notes: Ahhh!! We were gonna post this in honor of Hotohori's birthday, but we forgot, so most of you won't see it until tomorrow. L But it's still April Second right now, so HA!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!! :P :P :P :P **ahem** Anyway…here ya go.

****

WRITTEN IN THE STARS

Chapter Two

Part One

__

~*~Saihitei~*~

He didn't protest. He was either too shocked, too tired, or too frightened, but at the time, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I got him somewhere safe and warm, off the street, away from where anyone could try to hurt him again. 

I couldn't take him to his own room, as much as I would have liked to, for it would have been comforting. I remembered the overbearing security of the place from a few weeks earlier, when I had come by to meet he…_him_ before one of our writing sessions: in order to gain access to the building, I would have to 1)find Ryuuen's ID card for swiping at the door, and 2) pray that whoever was on duty would actually allow a young man such as myself to carry a nearly-unconscious, drugged-looking girl back to her _bedroom_. My chances were decidedly slim, and therefore, the only thing I could do was to take him back to my own apartment, despite the greater distance involved.

When I stepped out of the alley, I was not quite surprised to see that Ryuuen's friend had gone. There was a slight stab of worry in my heart—_will she be all right? Can she make it home safely on her own? What if someone else comes after her?_—but in truth, both of the girls at…both of the…both of _them _at once would have been too much for me to handle. I would just have to trust that she could take care of herself, because as cruel and selfish as it was, she wasn't my problem at the moment.

The bus would have been inconvenient, going around and out of the way when all I wanted was to get home as quickly as possible. So I began walking briskly, hoping I would not draw too much attention to us.

Then again, it was Friday night on a college campus, after all. Stranger things had happened, and _were _probably happening.

After I had lifted him up, Ryuuen had been nearly rigid. But now, he had relaxed, and I saw that he had either passed out or fallen asleep. I gathered him closer almost without thinking about it, lacing his arms around my neck and moving his body so that we were chest to chest, his legs on either side of me, like a child; despite the fact that he weighed very little, it was much easier this way.

The slight but chilly wind bit across my face, but I barely felt the cold. The questions that had popped into my mind just minutes ago tried to resurface now that the immediate danger had been dealt with, but I had no more answer to them now than I did then, and no time to spare worrying about them. The only thing I needed to focus on was Ryuuen's safety, which did not, at this moment, include delving into his psyche. 

I couldn't explain this sudden protective feeling I had toward him… Well, maybe I could, at that. Seeing him there, surrounded by those awful drunken louts, shirt torn…

__

If I hadn't come, they would have killed him. They would have killed him.

My mind settled on that one thought, replaying it over and over again, and by the time I finally reached my own doorstep, I was clutching Ryuuen so tightly that he might have gasped, had he been awake. His head had fallen to my shoulder, facing the middle of my chest and pressing against my neck, a few strands of violet hair crossing his delicate features…

It was just so _strange_, trying to reconcile his appearance with his newly-discovered gender. But I knew what I had seen. 

I somehow managed to hold him with only one arm beneath him, reaching for my key and then turning it in the lock. Once inside, I instinctively moved to the bedroom to relieve myself of my burden, then realized the implications of such a thing and froze in my tracks.

__

Wait, wait… He was nearly assaulted, and you're going to set him in a strange bed? 

Turning sharply, I took a step toward the couch. It was a very comfortable couch, and…

__

WHAT?! How is a couch any better than a bed? A couch would symbolize a quick fling, whereas a bed at least indicates SOME level of commitment!!

WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD AM I TALKING ABOUT???!! Saihitei. Please get a grip on yourself. You must put him SOMEWHERE. 

After what had happened, though, I didn't want to leave Ryuuen in any sort of panic-inspiring position, especially since he'd never been in my apartment before, and probably would not know where he was when he awoke. A few moments of frantic decision-making later, I decided to give him the bed, but left the lights on and the door wide open. I set myself on the couch where I would be visible from the doorway of the bedroom, and flipped on the television, though I could not focus on anything besides the events in the alley.

__

He has a symbol. "Yanagi." It's real; he is a seishi!

And a voice in my head informed me, in a regal whisper, of this second seishi's name:

__

Nuriko.

~*~Ryuuen~*~

My eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling, and for at least a half a second, I couldn't remember anything but that I was warm, my head hurt, and someone was humming softly nearby. I could hear the familiar static buzz of a television in room that wasn't this one, but it must've been muted, because that was _all_ I heard…except for the humming. It was a low, mournful tune that sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was any more than I could identify who was singing it. 

And, then, I drew a deep breath, realizing as I did so that my cheek was swollen and my shirt was torn and my body felt like it'd been through the equivalent of the Boston Marathon…and, it all came flooding back. 

__

Steph. The party. Pete and…and Dave. The alley…

I squeezed my eyes shut in sudden memory, turning onto my side and drawing my legs to my chest. The sheets rustled beneath me, clean and smooth and soft, and I knew with an instant kind of dread just where I was and who had brought me here. My thoughts were moving too quickly for me to fasten on any one in particular, so I wrapped my arms around my bent legs and tucked my chin down onto my knees and tried to sleep again, because at least if I was sleeping then I wouldn't have to deal with what was going to happen when Saihitei realized that I was awake. I wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable shock and questions and disgust and hatr—

…no. 

My thoughts broke off, crumbled down like pieces of shattered glass. No. No, somehow…somehow, I knew that there would be no disgust. There would be no hatred. He might look at me differently now, might be confused…but, he wouldn't hate me. For a minute, I laid there, still and barely breathing, and tried to focus on just why I knew that that was true; enough possible answers sprang up immediately that I was able to relax at least a little, lying there curled up and warm beneath a pile of blankets that weren't my own.

__

He carried me. I…I remember. He carried me. And, before that, he…he saw me, but he saved me, anyway. If not for him, I'd be dead right now, wouldn't I? 

Besides, we...match. 

Suddenly remembering, I opened my eyes and clutched almost frantically at the torn flap of my shirt, tugged it down and stared…but, there was nothing there. The skin was smooth and unbroken, and even though I could see the bruises forming there from where Dave had grabbed me roughly, there was nothing else there. No weird red light, no glowing Chinese symbol. Had it…had it been a dream?

__

How can you tell? All of this feels like a dream.

No. No, not a dream. A nightmare. 

I want to wake up.

I didn't mean to, I really didn't, but…I started to cry. For a few seconds I tried to force myself to stop, pressing my face into the pillow case and closing my eyes and holding my breath, but it didn't help; all it did was make the inevitable sobbing breath louder when it finally came. 

__

Idiot, I hissed inwardly. _What's the point in crying? It's not helping anything, is it? Do you think it's gonna make things better somehow? There's no point! It's not going to help anything!_

But, I…I couldn't stop. 

Finally, I had to give in to the tears; they were suffocating me, crawling slowly up through my throat and tearing at my lungs. They were…painful. So, I gave in. I rolled over onto my stomach, buried my face in the pillow to at least partially muffle the sound of my tears, and cried. My fingers clutched at the pillow case, folding tiny wrinkles into the fabric, and low, anguished sobs sprang from my throat, slid into the pillow and vanished; my face was wet, and my nose was already getting stuffy… Damn it, I hated crying! It never helped, and all it did was leave me feeling weak and drained and miserable…

__

Why are you even crying? You're safe now. You're not dead. Isn't that a good thing? Shouldn't you be happy?

I let out another harsh sob, my entire body shaking beneath the blankets.

__

Idiot. You can't reason with tears.

And, then there was the sound of rustling cloth and the whisper of socks against the carpeting, and I knew that I wasn't alone anymore.

__

~*~Saihitei~*~

I hadn't even realized I'd been humming until I stopped. 

I'd heard him. That's what awakened me from my pensive trance. I heard him…and it sounded like…

Quickly, I rose, made my way to the open door of my bedroom. My heart caught in my throat at the small sound I had heard, and I hoped to whatever god had chosen me that I was wrong, that he wasn't crying, after all. I didn't know what I would do if he was, the situation being more than a little awkward. But when I came to stand in the doorway, I found that my hopes were useless, and I wanted to cry myself.

His small body was outlined by the sable down quilt of my bed, the one I had bought because it looked respectable and bland, just like me. He was clutching the pillow with trembling arms, trying to quiet himself…and I stood there and watched him in agony, mirroring his anguish with my own.

__

What the hell do I do?? I don't want to touch him. No, that's a lie. I DO want to touch him. There is nothing I want more than to go to him and…

And what? And what, Saihitei? Hotohori? Whoever you are? Have your feelings toward him changed so much now that you've seen his chest, or lack thereof? Are you really that shallow, to love based on gender alone?

So I was shallow. But the truth was, my heart ached in a way in which it had never ached before. All I wanted was to stop his tears, to banish whatever made him so unhappy. It wasn't just what had happened in the alley; there was more to his story, _much _more, but I didn't have a clue how to go about finding out tactfully. My impulse was to simply stop the immediate sorrow, to hold him like a child and let him cry, tell him that it was all right, that whatever had happened, he was safe now. 

But I couldn't. Somehow, I couldn't.

Dumbly, I made my way to the side of the bed, nearly stumbling in my stupor. An attempt to raise my arm, to reach out to him, lying there so sad and small and helpless, soon failed; my fist curled up against my chest as I stared at him, the most useless hero in the history of the world. So I had saved him from his attackers, from physical harm. But as far as mental and emotional turmoil went…I didn't know where to begin. All I knew was that my heart would split in two if he kept on crying like this. 

__

…My…heart…

It was strange…it was so strange. I had never felt…

…

My mind trailed off into oblivion, and before I could gather my thoughts together once more, he had stiffened suddenly, the heartbreaking sobbing ceased…and I knew he was aware of my presence. 

__

I should say something.

I opened my mouth to do just that, and instead of something comforting and reassuring, what came out was: "I…will get a sweatshirt for you to wear. You must be cold."

__

Brilliant. A real humanitarian feat.

I physically winced as I headed toward my chest of drawers, my back turned to him. The gray sweat outfit I found would be several sizes too large for Ryuuen, but it was warm, and it was clean, and I did not believe that offering him actual pajamas would do anything to detract from the present level of awkwardness.

Bracing my shoulders, clearing my throat to break the silence that had cut through the room, I whirled around with what I hoped was an unthreatening smile, to see that he had, in fact, turned, and was now facing me. He held the quilt to his chest protectively, large, damp eyes staring up at me with something akin to hesitant curiosity; his long hair pooled onto the pure white sheets beneath him, shining despite the tangles, a few strands of his bangs hanging unnoticed over his face, nearly obscuring the bruise he had received.

He was…beautiful.

In order to avoid standing there speechless again like an impeccably attractive village idiot, I forced myself to take a few quick steps forward and set the clothing on the bed in front of him. Instinctively, I suppose, I was ignoring everything that had happened earlier in favor of making Ryuuen feel more at ease. I'm not certain if this tactic was at all mentally healthy, but it was the only thing I could think of. 

"There's the bathroom, right over there…" I pointed to the door. "There should be an extra toothbrush—a new one, I mean—in the middle drawer, and the towels on the racks are all clean, if you'd like to take a shower or a bath or something…um, well. I'll be out on the couch if you need me. If you need anything, that is…don't hesitate to ask." I widened my smile and he blinked his eyes slowly, long, dark lashes brushing against his pale cheeks. Privacy, I figured, was probably desirable for the poor boy at the moment, so I gave him a nod and headed toward the door. 

"S…Saihi…"

It was just a little voice, choked and rough with recent tears, pained and weak. But it made me stop in my tracks and face him once more, wondering that my heart had started beating faster than usual. Ryuuen was now sitting upright, looking even smaller than he was alone in the huge bed, the blankets still pulled around him so that little below the tops of his shoulders was visible. With the air of a lost child, he took a tentative, hasty, nervous glance around the room before returning his gaze to me. His eyes flickered away after only a few seconds, as if he was surprised that our eyes had met at all, and a faint, endearing blush spread across his cheeks.

"Umm…" he whispered, and clutched the blanket closer. "Th…Thank you." 

I smiled, the inside of my chest swelling abnormally. "You're welcome," I said, and left the room, quietly closing the door behind me.

And it was then that I realized I had loved him all along.

~*~Ryuuen~*~

For the first few moments, I ignored him, because honestly, there wasn't much more I could do. I didn't cry all that often, and so when I did let that wall drop, all the pent-up emotions came rushing out like the bloody Johnstown Flood, or something. But, really, I didn't think he'd actually come _into_ the room, and I thought even less that he would come and stand behind me, motionless, and just _stare_ at me…

There was the rustle of cloth—he…he wasn't reaching down to touch me, was he?

My body stiffened before my mind had entirely caught up, and that seemed to give me a little handhold to drag myself up out of this pit of tears—I drew in a deep breath, too, which helped settle my emotions even more. I was still feeling sick and drained and miserable, exhausted from crying even for such a short time, but at least the tears themselves had stopped. And, too, the rustling of cloth from behind me had stopped. He wasn't going to try to touch me, then. He wasn't going to try to comfort me, to hold me close and let me cry into his shoulder until I fell asl…

__

Ryuuen. 

Get a grip. 

He doesn't think you're a girl anymore, remember? Maybe he was reaching down to flick you on the back of the head or something, for being such a moron and getting his sheets all snotty. 

And…what're you thinking, anyway?? You don't –want- him to touch you, remember?? It makes you feel –uncomfortable!- Try to remember that, would you??

I heaved a little sigh into the pillow, preparing to push myself up into some kind of sitting position—it was going to be unpleasant, but I was sure he was going to want to discuss what had happened, and then, I was certain, would come the inevitable, "Hey, so, what the hell're you doing dressing like a girl, anyway?" question. But…but, it was okay. All I needed was a shirt to put on over this one, to cover up…

__

(he ripped it and god they all saw me they all saw me)

…and, then, I would be able to thank him for his kindness, apologize for vandalizing his pillow cases, and get back to my dorm where I could cry without worrying about being interrupted. 

__

I'm not ready to talk about this… God, it's been how many years, and I'm –still- not ready? Pathetic, Ryuuen. Really. But, still. I…I will if I have to. I owe him at least that much, don't I? If it weren't for him, I'd be dead. 

I guess that means my life belongs to him in a twisted kind of way, doesn't it?

Just as I was bracing myself to field whatever questions he might have, he said, "I'll…get a sweatshirt for you to wear. You must be cold."

I was so stunned that, despite the fact that I'd managed to collect myself again, I couldn't find the strength to speak.

__

A sweatshirt?? A SWEATSHIRT??? We were glowing, I'm really a guy, and you're talking about getting me a –sweatshirt??-

And then, right on the tail of the shock and the confusion, came the relief, and the gratitude…but, also, the shame.

__

He doesn't want to talk about it, does he? 

Well, why the hell should he?? Why should he care about the reasons why? Why should he even –want- to know? Think about it, Ryuuen. If you were in his shoes, wouldn't you want to forget this ever happened, too? Pretend everything's okay? Pretend you're still a girl??

I sat up, drew the quilt up over my chest and leaned my back against the headboard. He wasn't looking at me, was digging through one of the dresser drawers with quick, almost-shaky movements. He turned to face me a moment later, a huge grey sweatshirt in his hand and a painfully-fake smile on his lips—_you think you can fool me? I am the master of fake smiles, thank you very much._

I noticed the change in his eyes when he saw me, though, and it confused me. I'd expected some sort of reaction, of course, but…but, what _was_ that? What was that in his eyes? It only lasted for maybe a half a second before he started telling me where everything was in the house, but my mind dwelled on it even while I tried to pay attention to the rest of what he was saying.

It had just been for a second—just an instant, but…but, for that instant…

I shook my head, forced the thought out of my head. _Silly. Silly, silly, stupid Ryuuen…_

"If you need anything, that is…don't hesitate to ask," he concluded. And, then, he was moving towards the door, and I knew that he was leaving m0e alone…

"S…Saihi…"

My eyes went wide. I…I hadn't meant to speak, and I _certainly_ hadn't meant to _call his name_, for God's sake… But, now, he was turning back to face me and in a moment he was going to be looking at me again and…ahhhhhh…!

I averted my eyes as quickly as humanly possible, afraid for some reason of that moment of eye contact, and glanced around the room once before _cautiously_ returning my gaze to him. "Umm…" I managed. 

__

Off to a great start, there..but, now what??

"Th…Thank you," I whispered.

And, he…_smiled_ at me. "You're welcome." 

He left, then, the smile still lingering on his lips, and for a long moment, I couldn't do much more than just sit there, feeling stunned and breathless, and stare at the closed door. 

Was it just my writer's imagination getting carried away again, or…or did he…?

__

Ohhhhh, shut up and listen to yourself! You were just almost assaulted and murdered, -three- people know that you're not really a girl, and you were GLOWING FROM YOUR CHEST! How can you even be thinking about something like this when all that just happened? What, are you in shock? Are you in shock??

I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the wall and let out a soft breath.

__

No. No.

I'm…I'm safe. I'm safe here, somehow. I can't explain it, but…I'm safe.

I got up, then, crawled over the quilt and grabbed the sweatshirt. It was way too big for me, of course, but as I didn't seem to have any other options, I pulled it on…and, it…it smelled like him—like Saihitei. I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself and drawing in a deep breath.

Sitting here like this, I could almost pretend that…

__

Stop it. Stop it, right now.

Look, you're tired and you've been through a lot. Go to sleep. You're not thinking straight.

I knew it was true, and so I crawled back to the head of the bed, slipped my feet beneath the warmth of the quilt, and settled in to try to sleep. As I drifted off, I couldn't help but wonder how it would feel…to be held.

~*~


End file.
